Liminal
by Cybrokat
Summary: Severus Snape keeps running into a student playing piano. Why does he stop to listen, and how does she respond when she is asked to invite him when she plays? And what about Voldemort? Here there be fluff, romance, drama, and angst.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: If they were mine, I wouldn't be posting them for free, and Hermione never would have ended up with Ron while Snape died. **

**Author's Note**: Greetings Readers! This is the first chapter in a long, **completed** story. I won't give you the exact number, but there are more chapters than my age. As a personal challenge, each is 5,000 words long at least.

This story is a fluffy romance, mixed with angst, drama, and humor, and will become quite naughty in later chapters. I have included a few OC's, only one which is prominent, and none are Mary Sues. There is nothing real squicky and no major CD, although there is a final battle.

Also, the majority of these chapters will be accompanied by music. I will give you the Youtube playlist link should you wish to listen along. It is not required, but I believe it will heighten the experience. (Or I wouldn't make videos for 130+ songs). The songs are not meant to be timed exactly to their appearance in the story. I give notes like this (1) when a song starts. Feel free to forward it to the next song when you see the next annotation (2) or just stop it when you will. Some songs have been removed by Youtube- sorry - but the last chapter here contains a full list of the music.

This story was started as my own NaNoWriMo, and I just followed the guidelines for four months instead of one. It was written between November 1st, 2009 and March 7th, 2010. I will post at least one chapter each week, and if the reviews are steady, I may post more.

Enjoy, and please, please, with a Severus on top, take a few moments to give me your thoughts. They are the reason I write.

**Chapter One**

**Playlist**: (remove spaces) www. youtube watch?v=n7f_14Z299I&feature=PlayList&p=B99C88FCB0404DA0&index=0&playnext=1

Professor Snape quickly walked through the door to Flourish and Blotts. After receiving the owl that his order was in, he was impatient to pick up the sought after tomes before something happened to them. He was Severus Snape, after all. Things did not go his way.

In fact, things had not gone his way for quite some time. Voldemort was starting to increase his attacks on the Wizarding world. This meant not only did he have to endure the loss of more colleagues and Order of the Phoenix members; he was also kept busy most of his evenings with Order business or, unfortunately, business for the Dark Lord.

At the end of the sixth year for the infamous Potter trio, Snape had been forced to commit his greatest crime and deepest regret. He had to kill his mentor and ally, Albus Dumbledore. Albus had helped him through the most trying times of his life, and yet now, when he finally would have appreciated having him meddling in his affairs, Snape was alone.

Somehow, Minerva McGonagall had convinced the rest of the Order members that there truly was an Unbreakable Vow taken, and through Pensieve memories of Snape, and their newest ally, Draco Malfoy, Snape had been allowed to remain with the Order. Working him back into Hogwarts was another matter completely.

Newly instated Headmistress McGonagall told the world that Dumbledore had fallen off the Astronomy Tower, and even though Snape had tried valiantly to save him from the curses of the Death Eaters, there was nothing that could be done. Fortunately, no one was going to contradict her story, and her credibility was impeccable. Thus, he was allowed to keep his job, though under a bit of suspicion, which, of course, was not new to the spy.

On occasion, however, the doubt would creep in. Typically in the darkest hours before dawn, as the oil burned bright on the torches, he wondered what it would be like. How would it feel to walk the halls without shifting eyes and looking behind one's shoulder? How would it be to not double check all of your procurements for spells, poison, and sabotage? Would it be possible that one day he might be free from this burden he carried? Although one of his masters was gone, the burden had not gone. It still remained. Oh yes, it remained.

But no, those days had not, and would not, come to one such as him. That was not his lot in life. His was to be a cog, a wheel in dreams and freedoms of others, only to watch from the sidelines as his own passed by.

But no matter.

Soon there would be a new flock of dunderheads in the castle. More detentions then he would know what to do with to keep him occupied. And who knew what would be the tasks he would have to take on, either for or against his nemesis, in the process of, hopefully, ridding the world of the monstrosity that called himself Lord Voldemort.

Snape shuddered. It was difficult to say the name, even in his mind. Too many horrors were recalled, both witnessed and experienced, in the name of that moniker, to not leave any physical abhorrence to its utterance.

He shook his head as though to clear a pesky insect, and continued his trek inside the bookstore. He walked straight to the man behind the counter and asked for his order. The young man quickly went into the small room in back where the special orders were kept, and hastily returned with a large parcel with his name on it. Snape took the bundle over to a nearby vacant conversation area where he proceeded to unwrap the brown paper. He never left without insuring that his items were exactly as he requested and paid for.

Sitting in the overstuffed chair, he couldn't help but take a moment to relax and peruse a recently imported Journal of Potions. (1) As he laid his head upon the headrest of his chair, he furrowed his brow. Was that music? Odd. Flourish and Blotts had never had music in the store in the past. Certainly, with the scrutiny of all things Muggle lately, they wouldn't be using one of those Seedy Players that his students referenced having at home. Well, whatever it was, it was soothing, and so he listened as he continued to read his article.

After a while had passed, he realized he was paying more attention to the piano than to his article. After reading the same section several times over and not retaining the material, he gave in and closed his eyes to the sound, momentarily trusting his safety to the public bookstore in the middle of the day.

The bright staccato rhythm of the notes tinkled through the bookstore, and seemed softened by brushing against the soft parchment and fabric. He felt himself unwind and breathe deeper as he relinquished critical thought for a brief moment.

Suddenly, the music stopped and began again. (2) This song was heavy, loud and strong. Snape was reminded of a rapidly flowing current or the students as that passed through the hallways in between classes.

Almost as soon as it began, the song was finished, and flowed into another gentler piece .(3) He let out a sigh he hadn't realized he'd been holding and once again felt himself relax against the chair. While not as soft as the first piece he heard, he still could not deny the inherent beauty of a well played piano. Such a clear and expressive instrument. Versatile and used in any genre. He couldn't think of anything that stood up as well to solo performance, not that he knew or paid much attention to these kinds of things. No, Snape was not a connoisseur of music, or even an appreciator, really. He must have just been caught unawares.

Some time had passed, and he rose out of his chair to inquire after the source of this music. (4) It was as relaxing as Firewhiskey, he surmised, without the nasty side effects. Snape was unable to contain his surprise as he rounded a bookshelf to find not only a piano in a cleared section of the floor, but also one of his own students at the helm.

Hermione Granger appeared to be the embodiment of the physical state he was in. Eyes almost shut, she was leaning into and over the keys as she played, not giving a trace of thought to the patrons around her who were reading, chatting softly, or simply watching her as she played. Her fingers graced the keys, and she swiftly turned a page, not even looking up to notice her professor standing off to her side.

He took this moment to watch her as the others were. She seemed very different here, in this environment, than she did in his classroom. This was not unexpected, of course, having come across his students frequently outside of the confines of Hogwarts. There was something about her, however, that piqued his interest.

She seemed…taut, focused. And, clichéd as though it was, mature beyond her years. He had recognized, even through his forced bias, that she would become a force to be reckoned with when she came into her own, and it appeared as though he was getting a glimpse of that witch.

The witch in question had stopped playing and was now looking at him with a raised brow. "Can I help you, sir?" she inquired, intrigued.

"What were you playing?"

Her eyebrow arched a bit higher. "I was in a Liszt mood, I suppose."

"You were listless, Miss Granger? I hardly believe that coming from you. You are hardly one to sit idle and unguided toward some unfortunate task."

She gave a short exhale. "Liszt, not listless, sir. He was a Hungarian composer. He is known for inventing the symphonic poem, the concept of thematic transformation, and experimenting with harmony departures in musical form, and he was a contemporary of Saint-Saens, Berlioz, Chopin, Grieg, Wagner…did you need something?"

"May I ask why you are monopolizing this poor proprietor's piano, Miss Granger?"

"Not that it's any of your business, sir, but I am on my break at the moment." She gave him a nonchalant look that clearly let him know he was wasting her time, so if he had a point, get to it.

"And your supervisor allows you to come and play during your free period? Who is your supervisor?" he asked. And why was he asking? He certainly didn't care if this chit decided to walk to Calcutta by way of San Francisco, he scolded himself.

She seemed to have had the same thought and, taking pity on his moment of curiosity, answered in a civil tone. "Yes, he does. And my supervisor is Mr. Flourish. Now, if there is nothing you require, I'll be going back to my job now."

"Why are you working during your summer, Miss Granger, instead of wheedling away the hours with your parents or your...compatriots?" He couldn't seem to stem his tide of curiosity, realizing he had never just spoken with her before.

If she flinched a little at the mention of her friends and family, she hid it well, but couldn't help but respond. "Why am I…you really don't know, do you? I'm here because, well, I suppose I'm here because I need to be. I needed a job, he needed a clerk. Kismet. Now, if you don't need me, sir, I really need to get back." She fidgeted a little, and then quickly started to fold and tidy her sheet music.

He regarded her for a moment, and then brusquely walked out of the shop.

~~HG~~

Hermione walked up the long drive to the Burrow after her shift at the bookstore. It had been a long and taxing day, and she was looking forward to the little gathering that the Weasleys were holding before term resumed at Hogwarts. She walked in the front door, set down her book bag, and greeting the red haired clan before her.

"Hello, everyone. Sorry it took so long to get here. The Floo was completely backed up today. Couple more weeks until I can actually Apparate," she said apologetically and took a seat at the table between Ron and Ginny, giving Harry a wave.

"Bout time," grumbled Ron. "We've been waiting on you for ages. Don't know why you had to take that ruddy job in the first place."

"Ronald!" His mother snapped her attention to the dining room from the kitchen at the harsh words from her son. "You know very well that Hermione wants to do this, and it is not your place to judge her. I think it's a wonderful thing, Hermione dear, that you've been able to be productive over the summer. You're become a very fine young lady."

Mrs. Weasley gave Hermione a brief squeeze before heading back into the kitchen. "Now, who is ready for supper?"

During dinner, all the guests enjoyed the splendid food and conversation. Hermione hadn't seen Harry or Ron much over the summer, and was grateful to have a carefree evening before they had to worry about school again. The Death Eater attacks hadn't gone unnoticed by the trio, either, so while they were not fully members of the Order, they were still keeping their ears to the ground.

They were having their dessert when they heard Mr. Weasley answer the door. "Ah, my dear, I'm so pleased to see you've made it. Please, come in, come in." He carried on before the frazzled bundle was able to say a word edgewise. "I'm Arthur, of course. There's my wife, Molly. Most of our kids are here. There's Charlie, George, Fred, Ron, and Ginny on the end. And we have other guests this evening. Remus, Tonks, Hermione, and Harry. Everyone, meet Lorrell, our foreign exchange student!"

"Um, hi," said Lorrell to the crowd as they all waved when their names were called. "I hope there isn't going to be a test. A lot of you look awfully similar."

Hermione watched as the new girl came into the room, and noticed she wasn't the only one watching. The girl was taller than Hermione's short stature and was more husky both in voice and frame. Hermione tore her gaze from the girl's ample chest and backside to look down at her own thin frame and for the first time, felt a bit inadequate. Though some may think of the Lorrell as more heavy set, it was obvious one person in the room thought she was just about right.

"Ron!" Hermione said loudly. "Weren't you guys going to get a Quidditch game started? Why don't you all head outside, and I'll help her get settled."

"Yeah, 'Mione, that sounds like a great idea. C'mon guys, let's head out while the light's bright," Ron said to the rest of the room.

Everyone quickly stood up from the table, gathered their plates and glasses and headed into the kitchen.

"Oh, out, out, all of you! Honestly, this is my kitchen, and I can tidy things just fine without all of you in here. Now, out and enjoy your game, and I'll join you in a jiffy," Mrs. Weasley said as she hurried everyone outside. "Her room will be across from Ginny, dear. In P-Percy's old room." She quickly turned back to the washing.

Hermione led Lorrell up the twisting stairwell. "Who's Percy?" Lorrell whispered. "I don't know if I want to spend the night in some dead guy's room, ya know?"

Hermione laughed. "Percy isn't dead. He's another Weasley child, but he's chosen to not be affiliated with them any longer. Mrs. Weasley is coming to terms, but it's still better to let her bring it up and not the other way around. They have another son too, Bill. He's probably off working with Gringotts right now, but you may meet him in time. So, where are you from?"

"Mr. Weasley never got that far did he? Well, hi. My name's Lorrell Pepple. I'm from the States. I was going to Van Andel Academy of Wizards and Wands back home, but the school got signups for exchange students, and my mom thought it'd be good for me to try something new, stretch out a bit. My parents are getting divorced. Muggles, you know? It's not pretty; my sister is taking it kinda hard."

"I know how you feel." Hermione opened to door to Lorrell's room, and helped her set down her things. "My parents just died."

~~HGSS~~

Lorrell and Hermione came down after a while to find most everyone up on brooms. Ginny, Ron, George, and Tonks were on one side with Fred, Charlie, Harry, and Remus on the other. It was unclear who was winning, but everyone was having a good time.

Hermione set herself down on the picnic table next to Mrs. Weasley. "Feel free to jump on in, dears. With you two it would make a full team."

"I don't fly," both girls responded.

"You don't fly?" asked Hermione. "Why ever not?"

"Too much in the front, too much in the back, you know? Hard to stay stable on a broom. I'd rather just walk. It's safer. What about you?"

"I'm not sure really. Just never had a fondness for it. I can fly just fine; I just don't care to put that much trust in a magical object. Mr. Weasley says to never trust something if you can't see where it keeps its brain."

Lorrell nodded her head understandingly, and they both watched the proceedings of the game.

Mr. Weasley leaned over to Hermione to talk softly to her. "You know, Hermione, you are always welcome in this house. No matter who we have here, there is always room for you, alright? You've done well for yourself this summer. Just never think you don't have a place to come back to."

Hermione's face tensed as she tried to stop the few tears that escaped. "Thank you, Mr. Weasley."

"Arthur, Hermione. Call us Arthur and Molly, since we already call you daughter, regardless of your relationship to our son."

That was the catalyst for Hermione, and as she hugged Mr. Wea…Arthur, she let the tears fall.

~~HGSS~

Hermione returned to the castle she had briefly called home. Since her parents passing was within weeks of the start of term, it was decided she would be welcome to return early. The fact that they died from a Death Eater attack was all the more reason to ensure the safety of the young Miss Granger.

She had little family to speak of. A few distant great aunts, but mostly it had just been her and her parents. She was an only child begotten by only children, but if their family had been small, it was more than made up for with warmth and love. After her parents deaths, the decision for her relocation was made almost before Hermione had even realized what had happened, and she found herself and her things in the empty seventh year Gryffindor dormitory.

She trudged up the pathway leading to the main doors. Only Headmistress McGonagall, Hagrid, and Mr. Filch had stayed on over the summer. With all the teachers away, the castle was large and foreboding, but Hermione had felt peace there in the two weeks since the funeral.

And she supposed it wasn't that strange that Professor Snape hadn't heard anything. There were quite a few other Muggle deaths in that evening's raid. She wasn't even positive Voldemort had had them targeted specifically. It was possible they were just in the wrong place at the right time. With only a handful of people in attendance at the funeral – herself, Harry, the Headmistress and the Weasleys – and with her safety as top priority, there hadn't even been an obituary in the Daily Prophet.

And after the death of Professor Dumbledore, Hermione hadn't even seen or heard anything about her professor or his whereabouts other than the fact he would be returning. She was one of the few who knew the truth of Dumbledore's demise, but she trusted the judgment of her elders and was content to be his pupil again. He was a known devil, as they say, and she knew what to expect from his classroom at least.

Hermione reached the large doors of the castle and went inside. She knew that the Headmistress had asked to speak to her upon her return to the castle. It felt awfully strange riding the steps up to the office that for so long held Professor Dumbledore, even though Hermione had already been up there several times more under McGonagall's tutelage. As the stairs wound to a halt, Hermione stepped off and greeted the Headmistress.

"Back so soon, Hermione? I wasn't expecting you for a few hours yet, at least."

"Sorry, ma'am. The Weasleys were playing Quidditch," Hermione responded. She walked into the room and took a seat in what she considered to be her chair, on the side of the desk by the fireplace. She had come up here often in the past few weeks for company and to talk off some of the weight on her chest, and she and the headmistress had grown fond of each other.

"Yes, then say no more. I know you do not have an affinity for flying. I hear their hosted student arrived safe and sound?"

"She did. I met her this afternoon and helped her to get settled. She said she is an exchange student. If I may ask, who did we exchange?"

Minerva smiled. "I know you will be saddened to hear of this, Hermione, but I'm afraid your final year will have to be without Miss Brown. It's seems as though the heartache of her breakup with Mr. Weasley and subsequently seeing you both together was too much for her to bear, and her parents thought it best for her to finish her education elsewhere. This was a prime opportunity for us all. Miss Brown gets the opportunity to visit the States for a year while we can continue magical cooperation and education by bringing in a foreign Muggle-born witch. Surely, you understand the times, Hermione."

Hermione inclined her head in agreement. With Voldemort still on the rampage, and attacks increasing all the time, it would be easy for the world to simply cast out the Muggle-born witches and wizards to avoid coming to catastrophe at the hands of the madman. Many people, however, were working night and day to increase the bond between both worlds. Hogwarts was one of the bastions of peace. "May I ask why you asked me here this evening, Headmistress?"

"My reasons are twofold. I know this is a hard thing to go through, dear, but have you heard anything about your parents will and estate?" Professor McGonagall was reluctant to ask, but she knew that some things needed to be taken care of regarding her parent's possessions, and it was better handled before the school year.

"Yes ma'am. I'll show you what I received." Hermione held out her hand and said, "Accio will." After a few moments, a folded letter whizzed through the door and straight into Hermione's outstretched hand. She unfolded it and handed it to the Headmistress. Hermione knew the short letter by heart by this point, and waited patiently for it to be looked over.

"I see that you are full executor, Hermione, and that everything will fall to you in a few weeks on your birthday. Do you know the full extent of your inheritance?" McGonagall hated to be so forthright but she needed to know the girl would be taken care of.

"Well, my parents were older, and we have no other family, really. My dad has some family back in Australia, we think, and my mom has some here, but they were never close. So that means everything will fall to me. My parents had our house, their practice, two cars, and a small vacation cabin. I believe everything is paid for fully, or will be shortly. They also both had life insurance policies."

"Hermione," said McGonagall, "I hope you realize that in the face of such a tragedy, your parents have made you a very wealthy young woman. Do you know how you wish to carry on? Are you planning on staying in the magical world? You know that you have my support with whatever you choose, but I'd help you in any way that you needed if you wished to stay."

Hermione was touched at her kind words. "Thank you, Headmistress. There isn't really anything for me in the Muggle world anymore. I had planned on going to Gringotts, and getting everything transferred into my vault as Galleons. I'll probably sell the property, and buy something of my own. I loved our house growing up, but I don't think I want to live where my parents died." She felt her heart grow heavy having to say such words, but they were true. Never would that be her happy childhood home, and it was better to take her memories as they were, and leave them without the ones of terror and sorrow that she would have if she ever returned.

McGonagall gave her student a spot of tea and a Ginger Newt while she turned to other related matters. "This brings me to my second question for the evening, dear. Do you know what you want to do after you graduate?"

Hermione took a deep breath as she thought over the question. "Ideally, or practically, ma'am?"

She gave her young pupil a smile. "Why don't you let me hear both?"

"Well, practically, I plan on finishing out my N.E.W.T.s here and graduation. Afterward, I hope to go on to a Wizarding university and complete my Charms or Transfiguration degree. I'll probably take a bit of my savings and buy a flat or small house, and Crooks and I can share it while I finish school. I figured I could tutor or teach piano until I finish, because I'd hate to be completely dependent on the money from my parents. I'd like to join the Order, officially, as soon as I can, and I want to help in the cause."

"And ideally, Hermione?" This was the response the Headmistress had most been waiting for and she fought not to twinkle like her predecessor, who was watching the proceedings from a high up portrait frame.

"Well," said Hermione, and she paused. Did she really want to be so open, so straightforward? So Gryffindor? If she never said anything, it could never happen, and she knew that she had said this would only be in an ideal situation. "If I may be so bold, Headmistress, there has really only been one dream I've had since discovering I was a witch and coming here to learn. I've found that my quest for knowledge is matched only by my desire to help others achieve the same. I know it could never happen to someone so young, and so untrained as myself, but I hope to, eventually that is, one day have enough magical education and experience to come back and teach." Hermione looked her former professor in the eye and held her breath.

McGonagall gave her a smile. "You have no idea how pleased it makes me to hear that, dear."

Hermione gave her a puzzled looked and couldn't help blurting out, "Huh?"

McGonagall laughed a little and explained. "Well, as it so happens, we have a replacement Transfiguration professor for this year, but next year, we will be searching again. I have spoken with the governors and my current Deputy Headmaster, Professor Flitwick, and we all have come to an agreement. Hermione Granger, I would like to formally extend to you the invitation to work with me and the other professors through the school year to get some hands on and practical knowledge from all of us, so that we may all have a hand in passing along our knowledge to you, and to give you our full support so that you may officially join the staff at Hogwarts the following year. I, personally, will guide you in what further knowledge you need for Transfiguration, but honestly, I think you could almost step up to the task now."

Smirking, the headmistress leaned forward in her chair to whisper conspiratorially, "Not to mention, you will be the youngest teacher ever on staff, beating Severus by two years. And a Gryffindor too!"

Before Hermione had a chance to recover her wits and respond, McGonagall continued. "Also, Hermione, it would do my heart good to know that you had somewhere safe to be, regardless of the climate outside this castle, where you could reside. We may need that mind one day, whether it be in the near further or down the road, and I could never dishonor the trust your parents placed in us as a safe harbor and world for their child. I wish for you to remain here, Hermione, or at the Burrow, or at Headquarters, if you wish to leave for the holidays or at the end of the year. I cannot think about you being on your own."

By now, Hermione's breathing was returning to normal, but she was still struggling with everything she had been told. "Ma'am, I only have one question. If Voldemort was defeated, would the position still be open to me?" She was not going to accept a job out of pity or fear.

Knowing that answer was going to be in her favor now, McGonagall let out a bright grin. "Absolutely, my dear. Absolutely."

"Then, then of course! I'd love to! What do I have to do? Where do I sign? When do I begin my training?" Hermione's mind was careening forward as she mentally adjusted. With the money from her teaching, and her savings from working at the bookstore, she may never have to touch her parent's nest egg, and it could be invested for the future. Instead of looking into universities, she could look for a small home in Hogsmeade or somewhere by the Burrow so she could have her own place during the summer. She could look for new teacher's robes. Perhaps she should talk to Professor Snape. She did always admire his swish and billow. She needed to get books for Transfiguration and educational theory and application, and set up a schedule, and…

"Hermione?" McGonagall was looking at her rather worriedly. "I seemed to have lost you for a minute. Well, first of all, while in this office, or strictly with staff, I would be pleased for you to call me Minerva. We are now, in a fashion, colleagues. Second, I wish for you to attend the first staff meeting, and I will introduce you to everyone then, and you can talk to them about arraigning a time to meet with them, and perhaps spend a day with their day to day tasks and classes. I will make sure you have a contract by the staff meeting, which will be just a few evenings from now, before classes resume. We can set up our own time throughout the year as it fits us both to review your progress and address any issues that may arise. And you are certain, Hermione, that this is that path you wish to take?"

"I am…Minerva. Completely."

"Good. Then, I am happy to have you aboard, Hermione. And soon, you shall be Professor Granger. Now, off to bed with you. I have taken too much of your time. I will see you again in the morning."

Hermione walked back to her tower - for as she was the only one there, she thought of it as her tower – and felt a small burden lifted. This was as close to feeling joy as she had been since her parents had passed.

She knew without a doubt that they would have been overjoyed at the overture presented to their daughter. As Hermione readied herself for bed, she could picture the happiness of her father's face and the smile and laugh from her mother, with her crazy red hair bobbing to and fro as she gave her daughter a hug.

She missed her family so much sometimes that she felt as though she would never repair and recover, but, for tonight, she was only going to think about the future.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Please welcome my PI accredited beta, Liongirl11, who is ready to defend us against bad grammar everywhere!

I also wanted to add that this story is HBP compliant, if anyone cares. It is also set in the movieverse, though neither one of these facts is very important.

**Playlist: **(remove spaces) www. youtube .com/view_play_list?p=E6640C86459C2469

**Chapter Two**

Severus Snape reentered the castle that had been his home more often than not for the last twenty years. This was the first time that he had not been greeted by a fiery bird and an atrocious wardrobe. If his shoulders were a bit more down and his footfalls a bit heavy, there was no one there to see them.

He lowered the wards and opened the door to his dank and dim chamber suite. After opening the curtains, he methodically put away the books and clothes he had taken for the summer. Sometimes he wondered why he even bothered leaving. With a few cleaning charms, the majority of the dust disappeared, and the rooms were once again habitable.

He went into his bedroom and sat on the bedcovers. Looking around the room, he realized everything was exactly as it had been when he first started teaching: same portraits, same furniture, even the same configuration. He took out his wand and surveyed the layout. Well, it wasn't much, but he could change this as least. "_Windgardium Leviosa_," he spoke to the empty room. With a swish and flick, which no wizard could ever forget, he moved his bed across from the window and placed the armoire by the door. Moving into the living room, he left the couch but brought two chairs together to make a conversation area similar to the one he had taken over at Flourish and Blotts. After moving his desk from a position similar to the one in his office to next to the door, he called it a day. Perhaps later he would look into some new furnishings.

Snape looked down at his attire. No, some things are best left as they are.

It was nearing time for the staff meeting. He was apprehensive about the reception he would receive from the other teachers, having not seen most of them since last term. He hoped Minerva had calmed the waters, but it's not like it really mattered. They hadn't liked him before anyway. He chatted with Hagrid and Flitwick on occasion, but that was about the extent of his Hogwarts social circle.

Walking into the bathroom, he and the mirror eyed each other warily. Theirs was a strained relationship. He took in his appearance. Same black hair, same crooked teeth, and same black frock coat. After straightening his jacket one final time, he left to head to the meeting.

Slowing as he neared the entryway, he could hear laughter and music from inside the room. (1) Well, at least it didn't sound like he was about to be lynched. He strode through the doorway.

He gave them credit. Although the conversation did grow a bit softer as he entered, it did not cease completely. The bit of dramatic piano fanfare didn't help. He gazed at the room and went to sit in a chair off to the side. Snape picked up on the music that was present. Minerva often had classical music playing in her office; he supposed this habit transferring to a staff meeting was not unusual.

Again he found himself resting his head on his headrest and listening to the music. The piano reached a frenzied crescendo and sort of stomped off in chords. He could sympathize. He strained to hear the last notes before they died off into the new song. (2) Turning to see where the melody was coming from, he groaned inwardly as he saw, once again, Hermione Granger. This déjà vu was like some bad Muggle movie. Maybe if he got lucky, he would get another night of restful sleep like the one he had enjoyed after their last encounter.

"Attention!" he heard his new Headmistress say. "If I could have your attention, please! If we could all move to the center tables, I have a few announcements to make before we get underway."

Suddenly, it was like musical chairs as the staff rushed to the tables, the loser sitting by him, it seemed. He gracefully walked over between a few empty chairs and sat down. He was surprised when, although there were a few other empty ones, Miss Granger chose a chair right next to him.

"Budge over a bit, please, Professor. And stop staring at me. I do have a legitimate reason for being here, I promise," she told him as she brought out a quill and parchment. Of course. She was going to take notes. He rolled his eyes and tucked in his leg.

"First of all, as you have been made aware, I have been instated as Headmistress after Albus's…passing," she said slowly. Taking a breath, she continued on, "A few changes will be made around the castle but nothing drastic, I assure you. I would like to introduce our temporary Transfiguration teacher, Professor Miller. She can only be with us for a year, however, as she wishes to pursue a career in the Ministry. So, together as a staff we shall be training the permanent replacement. I am pleased to announce that our own Hermione Granger has agreed to train with us and take on the position after she graduates. Hermione, please stand."

Hermione ignored the snort of indignation next to her, rose to give a shy wave, and sat back down again.

"Throughout the year, I wish for you all to give her a day of your time so that she can learn our different methods of instruction, how we handle students, and our everyday activities. You may meet with her this evening, if you wish, to set up a date for her to come and shadow you, or, if you prefer, you may catch up at a later time."

"Joy," Professor Snape couldn't help but utter. Headache, thy name is Gryffindor. He wasn't normally susceptible to the personal opinions of others, but he couldn't help but feel a moment of regret as the girl next to him shot him a look of hurt before turning her head to the Headmistress. He honestly hadn't thought she would care much what he thought.

The meeting wasn't very long – one variation from the old – and afterward, the staff stayed for a bit of socializing and to catch up on each other's summers.

"Wonderful, Hermione, simply wonderful!" exclaimed little Professor Flitwick. "What a joy it will be to keep you on at the castle! Please don't hesitate to ask if you have any questions. My door is always open. I think you will find we mostly have a pretty tight staff here, and I daresay you will fit right in, even if you are so young."

"Why, she'll be even young'r than Professor Snape was when he started teachin'!" Hagrid cheerfully added.

Hermione greeted the new Transfiguration professor, "Hello, Professor Miller. I hope you have a wonderful year here."

"Oh, I'm sure it's going to be awesome!" said the young witch. "I get to teach all you guys, then go and see about marriage equality and equal rights for Muggle-borns and half-bloods. I mean, even though I'm a pure-blood, it's just outrageous how those people get treated! I was just reading about how last week…"

Hermione hoped she was nodding in the right places as she tuned the new professor out. It was evident Professor Miller was very enthusiastic about her opinions, and Hermione just hoped she was as accomplished in the classroom as she was opinionated in the political arena.

Most of the staff extended the same invitation as Professor McGonagall, that she call them by their first names at meetings. She set up most of the days she needed and was asked if she wouldn't mind returning to the piano. (3)

"And what is that you are playing, Miss Granger? Are you in a Liszt mood again?" Professor Snape asked her as he moved back to his chair.

Her lips quirked. "No, sir. Liszt-less this time. This is Debussy. 'La Fille Aux Cheveux de Lin.'"

After it became apparent that this was all the answer he was going to receive, he asked, "Meaning?"

"The girl with flaxen hair."

"But your hair isn't flaxen," he answered shortly.

"No, it isn't. I just like the song, sir. Let me play one that may be more straightforward and familiar," she told him with a hint of teasing in her voice as she switched to 'Claire De Lune'. (4)

He was pretty sure this was one of the pieces that Minerva was fond of; surely this was her request. "So you will be taking over for Minerva then? Was this scheme your idea?" He waited a few moments, and she didn't respond. "Miss Granger?"

After a few more moments, she answered, "Sorry. Sometimes it's hard to think and play. This does require a bit of concentration, you know."

His head gave a minute shake as he answered, "No, I didn't."

"Oh." She was constantly surprised by the lack of musical knowledge amongst an otherwise cultured society. A few people played, and there was wizarding music, but fine arts were not taught anywhere, as far as she could tell. "Well, it can be difficult to read the music, translate it to my fingers, and carry on a conversation, sir. I don't often play for company. And to answer your question: no, it wasn't my idea. She had discussed it with the governors before it was brought to my attention, but I'm looking forward to the opportunity."

"Getting to be the youngest professor ever at Hogwarts, surely an opportunity you couldn't refuse," he dryly told her.

"I believe you would think long and hard before turning down an offer such as this one, sir. It isn't everyday when, as an inexperienced individual, you are offered the opportunity for secure employment in such a prestigious institution. I think anyone would think long and hard before turning down Minerva McGonagall."

"Touché, Miss Granger."

The song finished shortly after she finished speaking. "If you'll excuse me, it's about time for me to get going. It was nice to talk to you, sir." And, she thought, it was, as long as he wasn't being too downtrodden. She wasn't the only one under a fair bit of stress this summer, she supposed.

He gave her a nod. She said her goodbyes to the rest of the staff and headed out the door to Minerva's office, where she was allowed to Floo back to the Burrow.

With only a few days before they all headed back to Hogwarts, she and Ron had planned to spend a little time together. It was near impossible to find time to be alone while at Hogwarts, so they planned to make the most of what time they had. Plus, with them being, well, them, who knew what the year would bring?

Hermione and Ron had only been dating a few months. After he accidentally broke up with Lavender in the hospital wing, it had taken a little while for him to get up the courage to ask her, and she had enthusiastically said yes. She had had a crush on Ron for what seemed like forever, and she had loved him since near the start of sixth year. Of course, being Ron, it had taken him a little longer to catch on, but he had eventually.

However, the past five or six months had not been quite what she had expected. She still loved Ron, but there were things about him that she certainly didn't care for, like his scrutiny over her taking a job or the fact that she had just walked in the door, and he was gone.

"Where's Ron?" she asked Mrs. Weasley as she came in the door. If Ron was there, he would have been right at the door to greet her with a kiss and, often, a suggestion to head up to his room.

"Why, he took Lorrell to see Diagon Alley. Poor thing still needed to buy her school supplies, so he volunteered to spend the afternoon there. Were you supposed to meet him here? I'm sure you could go catch them if you wish and bring them back for dinner," said the matron.

"That's alright," said Hermione in a flat tone. "I hope they have a great time."

She headed into the living room to read a book while she waited.

She was torn between anger and relief, which just made her feel exasperated. She loved Ron, she really did. But she was beginning to wonder if her love for him was love for her friend Ron, instead of her boyfriend Ron.

There were so many things about a person you didn't see when you weren't in a relationship.

With her friend Ron, she had enjoyed laughing about school and their friends, hanging out in the common room, and getting into mischief. She had admired his cunning, his loyalty to his friends. She enjoyed his large family and the way he was so laid back. Like a duck, everything just kind of rolled off his back. And, like she had told Lavender that day in the hospital room, she had always found him interesting.

Now that they were dating, things were…different. She loved to kiss and cuddle but not much more beyond that. Ron was more than ready to take it all the way, and although she knew he was trying to be patient, it was wearing thin.

It wasn't that she was an ice princess as she had heard him mutter under his breath more than once. She had had plenty of those kinds of thoughts, thank you very much, and had a very healthy sexual relationship…with herself. Hermione sighed.

When she was alone, she could think of other men or just let her mind enjoy the sensations, and she could bring herself quickly to completion. And up in his room, she had no problem helping him reach his peak as well. But when it came to him with her…it was never a good sign when you just wanted to giggle at all the red hair. Some people might find it a turn on, but not her. She was never able to consistently orgasm with Ron. Maybe that's why she wouldn't have sex with him. If he couldn't even get this right, how was that going to be?

Hermione shut the book on her lap and walked over to the window. A watched pot never boiled, but it didn't stop you from watching. After an hour with no sign of anyone, she went into the kitchen to help Mrs. Weasley with dinner.

"Not much left to do now, but you're welcome to cut up those carrots, if you like, and toss them into the pot," she told the girl.

Hermione took the carrots and, using the techniques she had been taught in Potions, cut them into precise, quarter-inch slices.

Cutting the slices set her mind to wandering again, but this time to the teacher of said class. She had had two run-ins with her professor in the past few days, and he had seemed sullen and withdrawn, even for him. At the staff meeting, the only words she had heard him speak were the ones directed at her. But then again, if she remembered correctly, she was the only one who had talked to him.

Were things really that tense?

She could see how it might be so. Many of the teachers were not in the Order, and thus didn't know the true nature of Dumbledore's death. But she figured they would suspect foul play. Not many people knew or understood the nature of the relationship between the two professors. And with Professor Snape, he certainly made it easy for people to believe the worst in him. She honestly thought that the man didn't want to be liked.

He had been cordial to her the few times she had ever spoken with him. Maybe he just needed someone to take the first step.

Yeah, right. More like she had gotten him on a not-as-bad-as-the-others day. She didn't think he had good days. Maybe his lack of sleep made him briefly forget he didn't hate everyone because it definitely looked like he hadn't been sleeping. His regular ennui had been present at the staff meeting, however. Even if he did ask her if she was still Liszt-less.

Her musing was cut short by laughter and giggles coming into the house.

"I know! Oh my gosh, that robe was just _atrocious_. I cannot believe she went out in that!" she heard Lorrell laugh, and she and Ron came into the kitchen, clinging to each other in their mirth.

"And that thing! What was that on her head? A beaver?" said Ron.

Lorrell laughed harder. "A purple beaver! Oh man, that was bad."

Hermione stood there with her hand on her hip and one eyebrow raised as she watched that blond cow put her hands all over Hermione's boyfriend. Or was Lorrell a blond angel? Hermione couldn't decide.

"Hello, Ron, nice to see that you've both returned. Did you two have a good time together?" Confused or not, she still wasn't going to let him get away with forgetting about her.

Ron look chagrined a little, at least. "Sorry, 'Mione. You know how it is. Lorrell had never been there. Had to show her a good time, didn't I?

"And he did too!" Lorrell unhelpfully added. "He showed me the twins' shop, and we checked out where you work, and he even took me to Madame Puddifoots!"

Now Ron turned red and looked a little nervous.

"Oh he did, did he? Well, that was nice of him." Suddenly, she couldn't remember why she had spent the afternoon waiting for him and cutting stupid carrots. "I'm going to go visit Ginny until supper."

She headed out back to see if the red-haired girl was in the garden. Even tossing gnomes sounded good by that point.

Ginny was putting away a few of the purchases they had made while in town and turned to see her friend angrily stomping towards her. "Forgot about you, didn't he?" she asked. After only receiving a glare in return, she told her, "You should just dump him."

"Ginny! That's your brother!"

"So? Doesn't mean he isn't also a prat. Look at Percy. Brother. Prat. It happens. You guys are better off as friends. Honestly, 'Mione, he doesn't deserve you. He needs someone who is happy watching Quidditch and stealing from the kitchen. We both know you've grown up, and he hasn't. Just think about it. We'd still be sisters anyway, like Dad said."

Hermione's bubble of anger was instantly deflated. Had things really come to that point?

She stared off into the garden and thought about what Ginny had said. The more she thought about it, the more she realized that one of the reasons why she was reluctant to break up with Ron was the fear of what his family and their friends would think. She would hate to make them have to pick sides because, of course, they wouldn't be able to just leave it alone, and she had hung around with Ron and Harry enough to know what it felt like to be caught in the middle.

She suddenly thought of a Disney movie. She felt like Stitch. Her family was small and broken, but good. Yeah. Still good. Even with just her parents, she had never felt a loss of togetherness. She had had love and support, and now that they were gone, her only family consisted of the Weasleys. She had been terrified of what would happen if she and Ron broke up. What if they didn't want her around anymore? Molly would be so upset, and Ginny would be in the middle.

But now she knew that wasn't the case. Oh, it would be awkward at first, but it was comforting to know that, should anything happen between the two of them, she was still wanted by the youngest and the oldest of the clan. Feeling slightly mollified that her broken family would remain family, she followed Ginny in for dinner.

The meal included all of the guests from the previous time Hermione had been there, as well as Kingsley and Mad-Eye Moody. After dinner, they would all be going to the safe house at Grimmauld Place. There was too much danger in moving everyone from the Burrow to the Hogwarts Express, so the decision had been made to move them a night earlier than expected and then spend the final night at Grimmauld before boarding the train the following morning.

Dinner was a brief affair. The tension could be felt hanging in between each conversation and fork-full of treacle tart. Most of the time they could forget that they were fighting a madman and that danger was always around them. Most of the time they could put Moody's "Constant vigilance!" on the backburner. But then there were nights like tonight that brought everything to the forefront and reminded them that even though they were only sixteen and seventeen, they had already lost classmates and friends, and chances were slim that they would all make it through the final battle.

They finished clearing the table, and each adult took a student to Apparate. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley took their children, while Remus took Harry and Tonks took Hermione. Kingsley gave a little bow to Lorrell before grabbing her arm. Soon, they were all in front of the safe house, queasy but none the worse for wear.

Kingsley turned to the nauseous girl beside him. "We are putting quite a bit of trust in you, young lady. Please read this silently and then destroy the paper."

Lorrell looked down to the scrap she had been given.

"_The Headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix may be found at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place._"

She gave a startled gasp as a ramshackle house squeezed itself out from between two others. "Well, that was kinda freaky."

"You get used to it," Harry offered. "Now let's go in, and you can meet some of our cheerier acquaintances - Kreacher and Professor Snape."

"Be nice, Harry," Hermione admonished with a smile.

They came through the door and, in a routine they had all perfected, quickly ushered everyone inside, shut the door, cleared the entryway, and silenced the portrait of Mrs. Black before it even began.

"Soiling the rugs of my mistress's house. Oh, my poor mistress. What would she say to this Mudblood filth? Excuse me, Master, may I get your bags?" asked the gray and withered house elf below them.

"No thanks, Kreacher. I can manage. But if you could start a fire and fix some tea, that'd be appreciated." Harry was getting better about the way he talked to Kreacher, but sometimes he still left something to be desired.

The students headed upstairs to what they considered their bedrooms, passing Snape in the hallway. "Lorrell, this is our Potions teacher, Professor Snape," Ginny told the blonde girl.

"Hello, sir. It's nice to meet you. I'm looking forward to my…" Lorrell stopped talking as the professor just walked on past and down the stairs. "Well, he was chipper."

"Yes, he was," Hermione agreed. "You must have caught him at a good time."

Lorrell goggled at the girls.

"Really," Ginny told her. "It can get worse. Much worse."

Lorrell nodded, apprehensive. "Good to know."

"Ginny and I usually share the master room at the end of the hall since we're the only girls. We can bring a bed in if you'd like to share with us."

"Yeah, I think I'd like that. This house seems like it could be way creepy in the middle of the night," Lorrell told her.

"Just don't talk to the portrait covered in curtains," warned Ginny. "Ever. That's Mrs. Black. She is apparently stuck to the walls and hates anyone who isn't pure-blood."

"Anything else I need to be aware of?" asked Lorrell. "Trick step? Moving staircases?"

"No," Hermione told her with a grin. "You'll find that at Hogwarts."

"Wonderful," said Lorrell.

Ginny told the girls that she was going to see if her mother needed anything, and Hermione and Lorrell followed her downstairs. Hermione gave Lorrell a brief tour of the house, and then they settled into a den with a steaming cup of tea, courtesy of Kreacher.

"So," Hermione asked her, "did you have fun in Diagon Alley?"

"Oh my god, it was awesome!" Lorrell exclaimed. "The wizarding world back home doesn't have near the history that yours does. 'Course, nothing does, really. And you have the coolest Quidditch shop ever. Ron's making me cheer for the Chudley Cannons, which I hear suck, but he's adorable, so it's alright."

"So, tell me what Ron told you about him," said Hermione.

"Well, he told me about his huge ginger family. And that he plays Keeper for Gryffindor. And that he loves to play chess, and he had an evil rat named Scabbers-"

"And that he's dating me," Hermione interjected.

"And that he's dating you," agreed Lorrell. "Wait. And that he's dating you? You two are together? Oh man, I am so sorry. I had no idea. He didn't say anything, and I totally take back my adorable comment."

Hermione sat awkwardly on the couch. Had Ron really not said anything? She could believe it. "It's alright, it's not your fault my boyfriend can be a git."

"Well, I promise I'll keep my hands to myself from now on." Lorrell got up from the couch and headed towards the door. "But Hermione? He really didn't act taken." Then she left the girl in silence.

Hermione flopped her head back against the couch. Of course he didn't act taken. She could tell that just by the way he had come through the door. And Madame Puddifoots! She didn't think that he'd ever even taken her there. Oh well.

She stood up to head out of the den and nearly bumped into her teacher. "Excuse me, sir," she said and stepped past him.

He quirked his eyebrow at her briefly and was surprised when she didn't flinch as she passed as others did. She was apparently in a snit about something. Oh well. Not his problem. He took the still warm seat Hermione had just vacated, and she would have been amused to see him flop his head back in much the same fashion as she had.

Peering around the house, she didn't find Ron until she had checked the kitchen, library (wishful thinking), his room, and the drawing room. Finally, she found him. He was sitting out back on a bench, alone.

"Ron?" Hermione inquired.

"Hey, 'Mione. I'm sorry about earlier," he told her softly.

She came to sit by him on the bench and took his hand. They both sat in silence for a few moments as they gathered their thoughts.

"I just didn't think, you know? I completely forgot we were going to spend tonight together, and she needed to go to the Alley, and I don't know. I just forgot. Sorry."

"I know. You left me there for hours cutting up carrots with your mother."

Ron winced. "Sorry."

"I'm going to teach at Hogwarts," Hermione blurted out.

"Well, yeah, maybe one day, but I don't see what that has to do with now."

"No, Ron, I mean that this year, I'm going to start training to teach at Hogwarts. That's why I was there today. I attended the staff meeting."

"Whoa, whoa. Wait a minute. You just took this? And didn't say a word to anybody?"

"Ron, this is what I've always wanted to do. Of course I wasn't going to say no. I get to teach Transfiguration after being hand-picked and taught by Minerva McGonagall! I'll be the youngest teacher on staff, ever. I'll have a steady income in a field I love. This is extremely prestigious. Of course I wasn't going to refuse. What would you have had me say?" she said angrily. "Sorry, Headmistress, I have to go chat with my friends first? It's not like I can go ask my parents!"

Ron stood up off the bench. "Yeah, that's exactly what I'd have had you say! I mean, we're supposed to be together, Hermione. I don't get a vote in what you do with the rest of your life?"

"Well, considering I don't even get a vote in what you do with your afternoon, no, I guess you don't," she snappishly responded. "We've been dating for a few months, and that's it. This is the rest of my life. I don't know what is going to happen between us down the road, but at least this way, I know I'll be employed and not just hanging around my parents' house playing Quidditch!"

"Oh, is that how this is?" asked Ron, his cheeks reddening with indignant anger.

She stood up after him. "Yes, that's how this is."

"You know I want to be an Auror, Hermione."

"Yes, Ron. An Auror like _Harry_. When are you going to be Ron Weasley?" She was now flailing her hands as she talked and was getting more and more upset. "You want to be a prefect like your brothers, Head Boy like Percy the Ponce, and an Auror like Harry. What does Ron want Ron to do?"

"I-I...well. That's beside the point. We're not talking about me," Ron told her, lip almost stuck out in a pout.

"You're right. We're talking about me. And I know me, Ron. You know that I've always wanted to teach, and I never thought it was possible, and then Minerva just drops this in my lap, and it's the first good thing that has happened since my parents died, and possibly the first good thing that's happened this whole year, so excuse me for expecting you to be happy for me when I get what I want, even when you don't!" Tears on her cheeks, she spun on her heel and headed for an empty room.

She saw no one as she stormed through the hallway and entered the deserted parlor. This room was not completely cleared of doxies, and most of the group kept to the kitchen, dining room, or library.

She looked out the windows to the street below and thought about her argument with Ron.

Softly, she began to sing. (5) "Long ago, in someone else's lifetime, someone with my name, who looked a lot like me, came to know a man, and made a promise he only had to say, and that's where she would be. Lately, although the feelings run just as deep, the promise she made has grown impossible to keep.  
And yet, I wish it wasn't so. Will he miss me if I go?"

She paced the room, back and forth, and she looked at the harsh truth in these words.

"In a way," she continued to sing, "it's someone else's story. I don't see myself as taking part at all. Yesterday, a girl that I was fond of finally could see the writing on the wall. Sadly, she realized she'd left him behind, and sadder than that, she knew he wouldn't even mind. And though there's nothing left to say, would he listen if I stay?"

She sat down on a couch facing the fireplace and curled up with a pillow, trying to hold off the tears.

"I don't see a reason to be lonely. I could take my chances further down the line. And if that girl I knew should ask my advice? Oh, I wouldn't hesitate, she needn't ask me twice. Go now! I'd tell her that for free. Trouble is that girl is me."

Hermione was crying freely now. It wasn't fair! Why couldn't she have someone in her life who cared only for her? Where was the security she needed? Life could never just give, it always had to take. Take, take, take. Give the job, but take Ron, take her parents.

The sad thing was that if it came down to Ron or Hogwarts, she knew which decision she would make.

And Ron wouldn't be happy.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** If you have any questions about music, please don't hesitate to ask. Also, I have tried to keep my anachronisms to a minimun, but a few do sneak in.

Everytime I get a review, its makes my Blackberry go, "Take out your wand," and I get irrationally excited. Please review so I can hear Snape. I answer each and every one.

Thanks to my beta, Liongirl11, who rocks more than she knows, and is possibly regretting taking on my commas!

Chapter Four will be up late Sunday night, and that will continue for the rest of the story.

**Chapter Three**

**Playlist: **http://www. youtube. com/view_play_list?p=3A2E75CDF4654F8E

Morning found Hermione stiff, sore, and in desperate need of a shower. She was still curled up on the sofa from the night before, and her sleeping position hadn't been kind.

Standing, she stretched and ran her fingers through her hair in an attempt to untangle the worst of the knots. And that's when she noticed it.

Stifling a shriek and bringing her hand to her heart, she peered at a black bundle in the chair next to her. Resisting the urge to poke it with her wand, she leaned closer.

And realized she had probably just spent the whole night in the same room as Professor Snape, which was more than a little awkward.

His head rested mostly on his shoulder, with his robes wrapped around him as he slept in the stiff-backed chair. She wasn't going to be the only one with a backache in the morning, but that didn't explain why he was here. What? Were things so bad that she needed protection, even here, if she wasn't in her own room?

She didn't realize she was staring at him with a puzzled look on her face until she heard a whisper behind her.

"Hermione!"

She wheeled around to see Arthur beckoning her over. She grabbed the blanket that had been tossed on her and slowly tiptoed to the doorway.

"Hermione, we were worried about you last night," Arthur told her after bringing her a safe distance down the hall so as not to disturb the resting professor. "Ron said you had a bit of a spat, and he wasn't sure where you had gone. Severus was the one who found you, and he let us know you were alright. Seems he forgot himself a bit there. Poor chap needed a bit of shut eye."

A slightly bewildered Hermione headed into breakfast.

~~HGSS~~

When Snape woke, his first thought was the catch in his back. Why had he slept in this bloody chair anyway?

As he stood up and stretched, he looked around the room. Judging by the sounds downstairs, it was late morning, and the girl on the sofa was gone. Even the blanket was gone.

Shit.

The girl had probably woken up, terrified at being in the same room with her own personal gargoyle.

He had been alerted to Miss Granger's disappearance after the youngest Weasley had informed them that she hadn't come to bed. They had begun a thorough search of the house, and he had found her curled up in the parlor, after what appeared to be quite a spell of sniveling.

He had informed the group of the girl's whereabouts and come back up to the room. He still wasn't entirely sure why. Stifling a yawn, he had taken a blanket from a nearby chair and tossed it on the girl, then he had sat down in the chair for a moment to see if she would rouse. He had intended to give her a stern lecture about wandering off and giving the rest of the house a fright, but suddenly it was morning.

Going down to the kitchen looking only slightly rumpled, he attempted to ignore the assault of red hair, its brightness was not conducive to his digestion, and went to the stove to make tea. He missed the confused look on Hermione's face as he walked in, and he wouldn't have cared much even if he had seen it.

Watching him take his meal into another room, Hermione noticed that no one had said anything to him at all while he was in the kitchen, and most had just glanced over him as though he weren't there. Maybe her lesson of being nice needed to be shared with more than just Harry.

"Good morning, Professor!" she hollered at the retreating form. It paused for a second and then continued on to elsewhere in the house. Hermione turned to find a few quizzical stares cast in her direction. "What?"

The group went back to eating breakfast before George suggested another game of Quidditch out back. Turning down their offer, she headed into the library. Picking up a Muggle fiction novel, she stretched out on the couch for a lazy afternoon before term began.

Hermione mused to herself. Last day before term, and she was by herself, reading a book. Not too shabby, actually. If only Crookshanks weren't stuck at the castle.

Before long, Ron came into the room looking like he had come straight in from the game.

"Hey Ron, you guys done that quickly?" she inquired.

"Lorrell wanted to try and play a bit, and without you, we had uneven teams. Hermione, we need to talk," he told her, and the tone in his voice told her about what.

She felt a sudden and desperate knot in her stomach. This was what she wanted, right? Or did she want to keep trying? She didn't know, she wasn't certain, and now she had to decide. "Okay, Ron," she said as she sat up on the couch. "I'm listening."

Ron sat by her, moved to grab her hand, but instead, settled his hands in his lap, fidgeting. "Hermione, I…what I mean to say is, um…well. I don't think this is going well. Between us, I mean. And I'm not sure if we should be together anymore."

So, she was right. And apparently it wasn't just her feeling it, but it still hurt. "So that's it then? Bye, Hermione?"

"I don't know what to say, 'Mione. I love you, but it doesn't feel like we love each other, you know? Always bickering, and it just doesn't feel right. I want to play, you want to study. I'm out with the guys, and you're sitting here with a book."

Hermione sighed, knowing he was right. Her pride was stung that he realized it and had come to speak to her first, but there was still truth in his words. "You're right, Ron. You're right. I love you too. I just don't think I'm in love with you." She grabbed his hand briefly. "I'll miss what could have been though."

"Yeah, me too. Would've been nice seeing you as a real Weasley. Who knows? There's still Fred, Charlie, Percy…"

Hermione giggled through the few tears on her lashes. "Gah, Ron, don't even say something like that. I don't think there is a Weasley for me. I'll probably end up with the exact opposite. Black hair, black eyes, Muggle, intelligent, and filthy rich."

"Hey!" said Ron, as though stung. "Well, then I'll date someone with blonde hair and curves, who loves Quidditch and wants fourteen children!"

"I want children!" said Hermione, a little peeved now. "I just don't want to be breeding right out of school!"

"Like my mum? Is that it?" Now Ron was getting angry.

"Ron! This is stupid. This is exactly why we can't do this. We are always at each other's throats. Go. Be happy. Hang out with your family. I'm going to, I don't know, finish my novel."

Ron got up and moved to walk out of the room. "Yeah. See ya later, Hermione."

"Bye, Ron," she said.

As soon as he was gone, she felt the loss. One more thing gone. All she needed now was to lose Crookshanks, and her depression would be complete.

What was wrong with her that she couldn't even keep Ron? Was she that socially inept? And she had curves! …Somewhere.

She could feel that tight place in her stomach clenching, and the bonds around her heart pulled tighter. This was good! It was a good thing that she and Ron were over, that they agreed that they could move on. But it certainly didn't feel like a good thing. Of course, when was right always good? And when was good always right?

Either way, Hermione was in a pretty dour mood on her way to dinner that evening, having chosen to skip lunch for some quiet time to herself. She squeezed in between Harry and Fred, noticing Ron and Lorrell sitting together… laughing.

It's good he is moving on, she tried to convince herself. The same day was a bit tacky, but there was no use in both of them sitting around being miserable. And for her, it was just one thing stacked on another. She could be miserable all on her own anyway.

She took a bowl of the stew on the table, noticing an empty chair. "Where's Professor Snape?" she asked.

"He's been…called away, dear. Eat your dinner," said Molly.

Hermione sat confused for a moment. It didn't make any sense that he would go to Hogwarts right before they all went there in the morning.

"He's been called to You-Know-Who," whispered Fred, daring the wrath of his mother.

She nodded to him slowly and looked down at her bowl. So that's where Snape was. Hoping he'd be alright, she quickly finished her dinner so that she could head upstairs and avoid the glances.

It was obvious everyone at the table knew about the ending of her and Ron's relationship. Molly gave her extra dessert, and Arthur kept making attempts at conversation, while avoiding anything having to do with her or Ron. The rest just kept their heads in their bowls. So, she took pity on them, announced her plans to take a shower before bed, and left.

Taking a hot shower helped relieve her stress from the day. The hot water soothed her muscles and washed away the funk she felt from her mood. By the time she had finished, everyone else was in bed. She understood that it was wise to make an early night of it, but she hadn't taken _that_ long, honestly.

Peeking in and seeing Lorrell and Ginny sound asleep, she decided to head downstairs to play for a while before bed.

Hermione had been taking piano lessons since she was a child, her mother insisting it was what refined ladies did. Sadly, her mother had been stuck with Hermione, but at least it was a Hermione who could play piano, if not do much else that was 'ladylike'.

She was proud to have a skill that wasn't just cleverness. She wasn't good at chess, much to Ron's disappointment, and she wasn't good at knitting. She didn't like Divination, and she didn't care much for most magical creatures. But she could play piano.

She had played for church and at recitals before going to Hogwarts. During the summers she had kept up her lessons and sometimes, during a rough patch in the school year, she would transfigure a desk or other piece of furniture into a piano.

Hermione realized with a pang that that was all she would have to work with now. The Steinway living room grand her parents had bought her in place of a car was destroyed, along with the other furniture in the living room.

She had loved that piano.

That's it; first thing tomorrow, she was giving Crookshanks the biggest hug ever and some of the wet cat food she knew he relished. Throwing on some sleep pants and a tank top, she tiptoed into the parlor where she knew the piano was located.

~~HGSS~~

Professor Snape came in through the door to the kitchens and fixed himself a late supper. He was pleased that even though the meetings were never what one would call pleasant, there had been no torture or raids this evening. Merely reminders for everyone to keep in their assigned places for the following year. "Sure to be Potter's last!" the Dark Lord had said with a manic laugh.

_Or yours,_ thought Snape bitterly to himself.

He finished up his meal and methodically took care of his dishes, careful not to disturb Kreacher. He crept up the stairs so that he didn't wake any of the residents of the house. They would be sound asleep as they always were. He had long given up the thought of someone making sure he made it home safely. They took his status with the Dark Lord for granted.

Tossing his black Death Eater cloak in the corner – it didn't deserve space in his armoire – he took a shower to wash away even the scent of where he had been.

Throwing on a nightshirt, he lay in bed and prepared for sleep.

And waited.

And tossed.

Then turned.

And tossed again.

Cursing every deity he could name offhand, he swung his legs out of bed.

He could never sleep after the meetings. In fact, he couldn't sleep most nights. Sometimes it was the Muggle screams. Sometimes it was Dumbledore. Sometimes it was himself. Either way, sleep did not ever come easy, but only after a time-consuming battle. Everything he got came through battle.

Absentmindedly tossing on a bathrobe – black, of course – he went down to the kitchens to make some tea. He only got as far as the stairwell. (1)

There was music again. The angry melody was coming from the parlor. He shifted closer and leaned against the doorframe.

She didn't notice him for a while, and he was free to watch her, unguarded, as she played the stress away. How convenient it must be to be able to decant your emotions into an instrument as though it were a Pensieve. To be able to just take them out, one by one, and leave them in the room when you were finished.

He watched her in silence, in her silly Muggle night clothes, as she poured her heart out into the poor, neglected room. Her sorrow must have run deep if she felt she could only share it here and not with her friends. He knew that kind of pain. (2)

The music she played now was not the music he had heard before. This was not Chopin or Debussy. This was not happy or soothing. This was harsh, sorrowful, and dissonant. One did not play this merely for pleasure, but for catharsis.

He didn't know how long he listened. (3) Melody flowed into melody until he had been there, up against the door frame, a half hour or more.

Suddenly, the tone changed. (4) He swore he could hear the music of a symphony playing softly. But no, that could not be. No one was present but Miss Granger and himself. This composition was very different from the others he had heard. It was simple but beautiful, with its rising harmonies. He noticed she was crying.

"Miss Granger?"

"Oh!" she exclaimed, and immediately the playing ceased as the girl wiped her eyes. "I'm sorry, sir. I didn't mean to bother you. I'll just, just finish up here and head off to bed."

"I did not wish to startle you, Miss Granger. Nor were you bothersome. I merely wished to ensure that you were sound."

"Yes, sir. I'll be alright. It's just been a trying day," she told him with a sniffle.

He moved a bit more into the room but was still only a shadow in the doorway. "Being in this house for the day, I can certainly imagine how that came to pass."

A ghost of a smile briefly appeared on her lips, and she told him, "It has been long in more ways than one."

"May I inquire as to what you were playing?"

"Of course. It was 'Songs My Mother Taught Me."

"And the title, Miss Granger?" His patience was thin after spending the evening with Voldemort, and he was in no mood for her flippancy.

"That is the title. Dvorak's 'Songs My Mother Taught Me.' And, well, it's a song my mother taught me. It's from a poem:

'Songs my mother taught me,

In the days long vanished;

Seldom from her eyelids

Were the teardrops banished.

Now I teach my children,

Each melodious measure.

Oft the tears are flowing,

Oft they flow from my memory's treasure.'

It seemed fitting. My mother was very emotional. Whether happy or sad, it seemed like she was always crying. Now, I think about never seeing them again, and it makes me cry. But sometimes I think about the wonderful memories, my memory's treasure, and that makes me cry too. It's very confusing. I'm sorry, sir. I'm sure you wanted to go to bed. I'll leave you be."

Instead of leaving, he asked her, "Would you care to finish it?"

"Finish what, sir?"

"Your music," he responded, once again questioning if she was being intentionally flip.

"Oh, yes. I'd love to, if you don't mind. I didn't quite feel as though I was finished for the evening. Feel free to take a seat if, if you want to," she spoke hesitantly.

Wrapping his robe tighter around him, thankful that he had brought it, he sat in a chair by the window, almost completely in shadows.

Well, that wasn't so bad, she figured. Over there, she could almost pretend like she was alone again. Even if she could see the whiteness of his legs in the moonlight. She blushed a little. This whole day was one for the books.

Turning back to her piano with a bit of hesitancy, she finished her piece. It was not long, and, as she finished, she glanced over to her professor. She still couldn't see him well, but he almost seemed… relaxed. She thought his eyes were closed as he rested in the wingback chair. Hesitantly, she began a new one. (5)

"This is not a continuation of the previous piece, Miss Granger," she heard the low voice say from the chair.

"No, sir. It isn't. If you don't care to listen, you are welcome to leave. I promise I won't be long."

He leveled his gaze at his student, inquiring, "Why are you here?"

"Because this is where the piano is, sir, and I was much too distracted to transfigure one," she answered.

Rolling his eyes, he tried again. "Why are you _here_, Miss Granger? Sitting in here, away from your friends? Why were you staying at the castle before term started? Why weren't you at home with your family enjoying the summer?"

She stiffened a little but managed to keep playing. "Things have been a little tense, sir, since my parents died. I was at the castle because I currently have no home. I am in here because of that, and because Ron and I are no longer together, as of this afternoon."

"Your parents have passed? Was there an accident of some kind?"

So he really hadn't heard anything. Steeling herself and focusing on the keys, she told him, as neutrally as she could, "My parents were killed, sir, in a Death Eater attack about a month ago. My parents were in the living room when it happened. Most of our house, my piano, my parents, they're all gone." She felt the familiar shaking in her chest as her breaths came in short gasps. She would not cry more tonight. She would not break down in front of him. "I'm sorry, sir. I just figured, you know, one way or another, you would have heard something."

"Not a word. I had not heard a word." Snape was angry. He was flabbergasted. How had such a big development not been shared with him? Did they think he cared so little that things like this would not concern him, or that information such as this would have been brought to his attention by the Dark Lord and not the Order of the Phoenix? "I am sorry for your loss, Miss Granger."

That's what everyone had said to her. She watched her fingers as they flowed over the keys in the soft light from the window. "I love this piece," she suddenly told him. "It's called 'Presence of the Moon.' Fits for tonight. And soon, the sun will rise. That's all I need to know. And I know I am not the only one who is grieving the loss of a loved one." She raised her head from the shimmering instrument as she finished out the piece and looked at him.

Professor Snape was a little startled. Most everyone he encountered thought him a traitor, a murderer, and worse. That killing the Headmaster meant no more to him than stomping on a spider did to most people. The young woman looking at him with a penetrating stare was not most people.

"No, Miss Granger, you are not. The loss of someone can irrevocably alter your life. May it be in some way that brings them honor."

"Few things are altering, sir, and fewer still are irrevocable. For now, I am content to play this piano and learn how to teach. I have no cross to bear." She stood up from the bench, and he glanced at the window so that he would not see the sliver of bare, flat abdomen that she exposed to him. "Good night, sir. And thank you for the blanket." Silently, she left him.

Snape felt…exposed, somehow. He was surprised he felt anything, period. And now, he felt tired. Taking this blessing at face value, he crept up the stairs and into his own room, where sleep swiftly found him.

He woke the next morning unusually rested. He rarely experienced a night of no nightmares, no waking. He had slept soundly. In fact, as he thought back on the last week or so, any sleep he received after spending time in the company of Miss Granger and her music left him much more rested than usual. More than a little relieved, and profoundly grateful, not that she would ever know, he left to gather up his charges for the journey to the Hogwarts Express.

Arriving at Platform 9 3/4, Lorrell was staring at the wall. "I just…run. Through the wall."

"C'mon," said Ron. "Are you a witch, or aren't you?"

"Oh, I'm a witch, honey," said Lorrell, and she grabbed her cart and made a run for the wall.

Joining everyone on the other side, they made their goodbyes to the elder Weasleys, Tonks, and Remus. They assumed Moody and Kingsley were nearby keeping watch, but they could not see them. Boarding the train, they waved their goodbyes and settled into a compartment.

Hermione sat with Harry and Ginny, and Lorrell sat on the other side with Ron.

"So, Lorrell," Ginny asked, "do you know what house you are going to be in?"

"Well, Professor McGonagall said that since Lavender Brown is the exchange student from Hogwarts, I could just take her place in Gryffindor."

"Excellent!" said Ron. "We're all Gryffindor. You'll share a dorm with Hermione."

Hermione grimaced. "Yeah. It'll be great."

The rest of the train ride was awkward as the friends adjusted to the new changes. Hermione supposed it wasn't really fair of her to hold a grudge against Lorrell, but really. Did she _have_ to hang on him like that?

She surreptitiously watched Harry and Ginny. She could see the look of longing in her friend's eyes as he watched his best friend's little sister. She had told him at the end of last year that Ron was okay with them dating, but he still hadn't made a move. She wondered if he was afraid of rejection.

"Ginny, are you looking forward to anything this year?" Hermione asked her.

Ginny glanced quickly at Harry. "Oh, well, I don't know. I heard Mom say that Professor McGonagall is thinking of putting on a Yule Ball. As much as I like him, maybe this year someone will ask me before Neville does."

They all waited, and still Harry said nothing. "That would be really great, Ginny. And maybe Harry will ask someone before he and Ron get stuck with the Patils too," said Hermione.

Another silence passed before Hermione rolled her eyes and gave up.

Before long they were arriving at the station. The students disembarked in an orderly fashion and went to the rowboats or carriages at Hagrid's direction.

"'Arry! Ron! 'Ermione! Blimey, it's good to be seein' ya!" said Hagrid as he lumbered over to give the three a group hug. "Good to be meetin' you too, Miss."

"Oh, Hagrid. This is Lorrell, she's an exchange student," said Harry.

"Well, 'ello then. You'd best be gettin' to your carriages, or you'll be in for a walk!" said the half-giant as he went to help the first years.

Hermione walked over to the carriages and started. She could see the Thestrals. She hadn't talked to anyone about how she had managed to escape that night, her manic Apparation landing her at Hogwarts. Never had she been so thankful and so ashamed to learn something ahead of time. She had been able to Apparate herself, but she couldn't get to her parents in time to attempt side-along and watched them both fall under the Avada Kedavra curse as they stepped between the black-hooded figures and their baby girl.

"It's okay, 'Mione. I can see them too. So can Luna. They're really quite gentle, I promise," whispered Harry as he took her hand and led her to the carriage.

"It's not something I took into account when I thought about being another war orphan," said Hermione.

"Well, it's you and me now. Just remember, you aren't alone," her friend told her.

"Thanks, Harry," she said as the carriages pulled away and headed to the castle.

Inside the castle, the Great Hall was as boisterous as ever. Students were catching up with their friends about the summer, discussing the raids, or feasting on the meal before them. The group led their new acquaintance to the Gryffindor table and made introductions as they waited for the opening speech.

"May I have your attention, please!" said Headmistress McGonagall.

"She is just as impressive as he was," whispered Ron. "Do you think it comes with the office?"

"Shh!" hissed Hermione.

"First, welcome to all the first years and returning students. Mr. Filch has asked me to remind you that the Forbidden Forest is, in fact, forbidden, and that any product from Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes is likely banned. A full list is on his office door, should you have any questions. Second, there have been a few staff changes this year. As you know, with the passing of our own Professor Dumbledore," she managed to say with only a tremor, "I've been instated as Headmistress. Few things will change, so please do not be concerned. Second, Professor Snape has agreed to return to the post of Potions professor for another year."

At this, a loud groan could be heard from the student body.

"Attention! Stepping into the Defense Against the Dark Arts post will be a new professor, Nymphadora Tonks."

"Tonks, please!" they heard the currently violet-haired professor say. "Just Professor Tonks!"

"Also," the headmistress continued, "since I will be taking over the duties of Hogwarts Headmistress, we have arranged for another new teacher, Professor Kristin Miller, to take over Transfiguration for this one year, with next year's replacement to be announced in due time."

The students looked at the young mousy witch, who waved enthusiastically from the end of the table. Professor Snape looked at her with a sardonic eyebrow and went back to ignoring the speech.

Shortly afterward, the students were released to finish the feast. Thoroughly sated, they headed up to the dormitories.

"Okay, so the third step on this staircase has a tendency to vanish," Ginny told the new girl.

"And the staircases move. In fact, sometimes, the classrooms do a bit too. So plan on extra time to get to class. The teachers won't take it as an excuse. We know, we've tried," said Harry.

"Do not go into the girls' lavatory on the second floor. Moaning Myrtle haunts there, and she's very unpleasant," said Hermione.

"We actually have quite a few ghosts," said Ron. "Each house has its own. Ours is Nearly Headless Nick," said Ron.

"And how can you be nearly headless?" asked Lorrell.

"Don't ask," they all told her.

The boys headed off to claim their new bunks in the boys' dormitory as the girls headed up to theirs. "Oh," said Ginny. "The girls can go into the boys' dormitory, but they can't come into ours."

Lorrell inquired, "What happens if they try?"

"The staircase turns into a slide," said Ginny.

"Cool," Lorrell told her.

Hermione and Lorrell went upstairs to meet the other Gryffindor seventh years.

"Oh my gosh, this color is fantastic!" said Lorrell, checking out the nail polish in the line of cosmetics Parvati had just set out on her side table. "I'm going to use it, okay?"

"Um, alright," said Parvati, giving Hermione a quizzical look, which the girl returned with a shrug.

Hermione set out her belongings, meager though they were. Her room had been largely untouched, furthering her suspicion that the attack on her home had been random. They had been bound to get lucky sooner or later, she surmised. But she couldn't bear to bring many of the items with her because they served as constant reminders of her loss. Instead, she brought her books, her clothes and necessities, Crookshanks, and a few mementos.

As though he had ESP, Crookshanks jumped onto her bed and nuzzled his mistress. Hermione smiled and buried her face in the fluffy tummy of her familiar. Remembering her promise to herself, she gave him a big squeeze, which the tomcat barely tolerated, and then she rummaged in her trunk until she found a can of wet cat food. Opening the can and setting it on the floor, Crookshanks was eating out of the dish by the time it hit the ground.

She laboriously shelved her textbooks and reference materials on the bookcase nearest her bed and hung up her clothes in her armoire. Gently touching each item as she put it on a hanger or folded it and put it in a drawer, she reflected on when she had received it and the memories attached to it. During the first Hogsmeade weekend, she would need to go and buy some new outfits. With the hectic summer, she hadn't bothered to update her wardrobe. Hermione was still small in stature, standing just over five feet tall, but a few of her jumpers were getting worn and a bit small. And if there was going to be a Yule Ball this year as Ginny had suggested, she was definitely going to need a dress.

It was getting late by the time that Hermione finished the majority of her unpacking. She laid down on her bed, feeling exhausted after getting to sleep so late the night before. Had that really only been last night? It already felt so long ago, as though crossing through the wards of Hogwarts had started a new era.

She reached over and grabbed the last thing out of her trunk, covered up, and rolled over to find sleep.

It was the blanket from Professor Snape.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: **I forgot to post the link here in the last chapter, but if you would like to see Hermione's blanket, I picture it like this: www. waverleypatch. org. au/images/showtell/April%

As with all links, please remember to remove the spaces to make them work.

Also, Lorrell is based on a real person. So if you are still frightened of her being a Mary Sue, she is actually based on a friend of mine who surprisingly still talks to me. I've been told I've nailed her character, and she is by no means perfect. If she was, I wouldn't talk to her. :)

I love the reviews I recevied from the last chapter! Thank you for taking the time to tell me you thought. I read and respond to each of them.

**Playlist:**

http:/ /www. youtube. com/view_play_list?p=CD2140245501986E

**Chapter Four**

Hermione stepped lightly out onto the Quidditch pitch and climbed up high into the bleachers to find Harry sitting alone watching practice.

"Coach taking a day off?" inquired Hermione with a smile.

"I need to see how they work without me barking orders all the time. They seem to be doing alright so far. Ginny keeps a tight leash," said Harry with a grin.

Hermione laughed and watched the young girl as she gave a beater a hard time about where exactly to fly. "I can see that she does! Is she the one you're planning on handing the team over to after this year?"

"Definitely," he told her. "She'll make a great captain."

Harry and Hermione watched the team as they practiced different tactics and maneuvers. They had a few fellow students stepping in to act as an opposing team so that the Gryffindors could better refine their skills.

"Why is Lorrell down there?" Hermione asked.

"I think she'd like to play but doesn't feel real comfortable on a broom," Harry told her.

Hermione nodded, remembering what the girl had said her first night at the Weasleys'. Letting out a long breath, she wondered if she needed to do more to become friends with Lorrell. It was obvious that she and Ron were already enamored with each other. Hermione had found him looking at Lorrell the same way he had once looked at her, and she would be lying if she said it didn't sting a little, but it hurt surprisingly less now, after the first two weeks of school.

If this was what she had to look forward to, perhaps she should just suck it up and make friends with her.

Climbing down from the stands, Hermione called over to her, "Lorrell!"

"What?" she yelled back.

Hermione let out an exasperated sigh. "Come over here."

Lorrell shifted a glance to Ron, who was too busy as Keeper to notice. Reluctantly she followed Hermione around the side of the stands. "Hey, what's up?" she asked her.

"Harry said that he thought you kind of wanted to help out and play, but I remember what you said about being uncomfortable flying," said Hermione.

"Yeah," said Lorrell. "What about it?"

"Well, I think I can help you," said Hermione.

"Honey, it's more about physics than ability. I doubt there's anything you can teach me," she told the shorter witch.

Maybe this was going to be harder than she had expected. "I understand where your difficulty lies," she explained, "but I think I can teach you a few charms for your broom that will make it much safer and more comfortable to handle."

"Really?" asked Lorrell skeptically, crossing her arms. "Alright. Let's see what you can do."

Hermione had brought with her one of the standard Quidditch brooms they were using this year. She eyed it critically and sized up Lorrell. Nibbling her lip, she cast a few charms, forgetting that she was doing them wandlessly, as well as silently, a trick she had been working on over the summer. "Try this," she said as she handed the broom over to Lorrell for inspection.

The husky blonde took the broom. She found this even more suspect. Slowly, she mounted the broom. "Well," she said, "it's definitely more comfortable."

"That'd be the Cushioning Charm. Now see how it flies," Hermione instructed her.

Lorrell wobbled a bit on the broom, as though testing it for stability, and was a little surprised to find it resisting her efforts. Slowly, she took off. Hermione watched her do a pass around the stadium, speeding up as she went, until she was flying over the team below. Making a sharp turn overhead, Lorrell finally landed in front of her.

"That was sweet!" said Lorrell, enthused. "Dude, how did you make it do that?"

Hermione laughed brightly. "There are a few benefits to spending the afternoons studying," she lightly admonished. "And feeling uncomfortable flying myself, these are a few things I've tried. They didn't help me, I just have to 'try, try again' as they say, but I thought they might help you so you could join them."

"But," the other girl questioned, "why would you want to help me?"

"Because I don't want to be the heinous ex-girlfriend. Because I see how close you two are, and I'd rather be friends than enemies. Because I knew something you didn't that would benefit you, and rarely does it do any good to not share knowledge. I'll be honest. I'm a little put out, but I would never begrudge someone else's happiness. I'd probably be pretty miserable right now anyway. So, take out your wand, and I'll teach you how to perform the charms by yourself."

"Okay," said Lorrell. "Cool." She took out her wand and followed Hermione's instructions.

It was interesting to teach someone from a different school. Hermione hadn't seen much of the spell casting from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons, but much of what she had seen was similar to what Hogwarts students were taught. It was intriguing to see the subtle differences in wand movements that other students learned. Soon Lorrell was casting spells without much difficulty.

"It's just 'Spongify'. Watch. _Spongify_! And see the little flick at the end? You need to make sure that hits your broom, or you'll just make soft grass," Hermione told her as she watched the blond girl practice. "Good! Now this Gripping Charm is a little more difficult."

After some practice, both spells were cast effortlessly.

"Now, for the Stability Charm, you need to make sure to hold your wand very steady. _Stabilis_!" said Hermione in a confident tone.

A few more minutes of practice, and Lorrell could fully charm her broom for safety and comfort.

"You're the sweetest!" she shouted back to Hermione as she lifted off to join the teams.

"That was really good of you, Hermione," Harry told her as she returned to her seat in the stadium.

"Yes, well, I have certainly helped you two enough. Time to spread it around," she told him.

"You still helped me," he answered with a smirk.

She frowned at him. "How so?"

"Now I have two complete teams."

She rolled her eyes. It always came back to Quidditch.

Leaning back against the bench, Hermione enjoyed the afternoon sunshine. She was pleased with herself for helping Lorrell. Her parents had taught her not to be petty and to always help out if you could. It didn't cost anything, and it would generally help you both in the long run. Even though they were gone, she wasn't going to forget what they had taught her.

Taking a deep breath, she watched Harry. She knew how hard it was to not forget what her parents had taught her after being with them nearly seventeen years. What would it be like to never have known them at all? She knew that Harry had his own issues, but he had turned out pretty well-adjusted, considering, and she was proud of him for that.

"I'm proud of you, Harry," she told him.

"Um, thanks. Why?" he asked.

She smiled at him. "I just don't think you hear it enough. Trying to remember to be a good person after having it drilled into your head for as long as I have is hard. I can't imagine what it must have been like to grow up with the Dursleys as examples, but you didn't turn out like them. You're a great friend, and a nice guy, and I'm proud of you and wanted to tell you. That's all."

"You're strange, Hermione."

"I know." She reached over to give his hand a pat. "Ginny will be a lucky girl to have you, whenever you get up the courage."

Her friend glanced at her quickly before looking up to the team.

"Guys! Let's call it a night!" Harry yelled out.

The team was laughing and carrying on as they flew down to the ground and headed off to change and grab showers.

"Great flying out there, guys! Glad to have you on a broom, Lorrell. Feel free to come out and pitch in if you like. Our opposing practice team is our first call for backup," Harry told the new girl.

"Sweet, thanks!" she told him, a little out of breath. She hadn't flown like that in some time, and it showed.

Hermione followed Harry out of the stands, and they waited for the team to get dressed before the group headed back up to the Gryffindor Common Room. Everyone was in high spirits after a fantastic practice, and they were in the mood to celebrate.

Ron brought out some butterbeer, no doubt smuggled in with the help of his brothers, and assisted Harry in getting some food from the kitchens. She wondered if the other houses did the same. As far as she knew, the entrance to the kitchens was fairly secret and not everyone had their own adoring house elf like Harry.

She changed into her night clothes and settled into a chair to read for a little while as she watched the ruckus in the room. Ron was playing chess in the corner against Dean, and Lorrell and Colin were watching. Harry sat on the couch watching Ginny chat with Neville. She hoped he remembered what she had said. Neville would make someone very happy someday, but Ginny had her eye on someone else.

As though he had heard her, Harry called out to Ginny. "Hey, Gin, would you like to come join Hermione and me?"

Hermione and me? Wait a minute. She wasn't even talking to Harry. Thinking fast, she said, "Yeah, um, we were just talking about our chances against Ravenclaw next week."

"Oh!" said Ginny gaily. "We're totally going to clobber them!" She left Neville and joined Harry on the sofa.

Both Harry and Hermione knew that what Hermione had said was a blatant lie but hoped Ginny would overlook it for the sake of spending the evening in Harry's company.

"What do you think of their new beater, Ackerley?" asked Hermione.

Both of her friends looked at her, surprised. "What? Just because I don't always join in doesn't mean I don't listen," she told them.

Ginny nodded. "True. You couldn't be a know-it-all without knowing about Quidditch. Then you'd just be a know-it-mostly."

Hermione sarcastically responded, "Thanks, Ginny."

"You're welcome," she told her. "But I really don't think he is going to be very good. It's the new Chaser I'm worried about. She is really quick."

Hermione slowly worked her way out of the conversation so that Ginny and Harry could chat alone. She slipped her eyes down to her book, trying to attract as little attention as possible to what she was doing. Turning a page, she snuggled a little further into the blanket draped around her.

As Harry and Ginny continued their conversation, she could see Harry slowly moving closer. Ginny was like a deer in headlights, obviously not believing what she was seeing. She sat perfectly still, letting Harry make the moves as he felt comfortable. "Would you like to see the book I picked up on the latest maneuvers of the Vratsa Vultures?"

"Sure, Harry, that sounds great. I'll wait for you to go get it," Ginny said with a smile, and she watched Harry leap up and take the steps two at a time to reach his dorm.

"This isn't happening," Hermione heard the other girl say. "This isn't happening."

"It is too happening. Now shush, and enjoy it!" Hermione told her.

Ginny looked up at Hermione as though she just remember she was there. "Yeah. Yeah, I'll enjoy it." She took a breath to calm herself before Harry came back and decided to chat with Hermione to calm her nerves. "What are you reading, Hermione?"

"Transformative Transfigurations: A Guide in Educational Application of Theory," said Hermione.

"Why did I ask? And why are you reading that?" she asked her.

"Um, well, actually," Hermione stuttered. The Headmistress has never announced that Hermione was working on taking over Transfiguration, and she didn't know if it was common knowledge. In fact, she didn't know if she wanted it to be common knowledge. She was happily rescued by Harry bounding back down the stairs and across the room.

"Found it! Did you miss me?" he cheekily inquired.

"Perhaps a little," Ginny said. "Now show me the book!"

Harry sat back down on the couch, right next to Ginny this time, and threw his arm around her as he set the book on both of their laps, opening it to show her the pages of moving figures demonstrating the latest feints and ploys. Ginny looked to him with a grin, and then they both became lost in the book.

Hermione was very happy. She knew that despite all the fame he was given, inside, Harry Potter was a very shy and slightly awkward teenager. In fact, all of the attention from something that really had very little to do with him as a wizard probably made it more difficult to overcome his insecurities. It was hard enough to create a reputation for yourself and even harder to live up to one set for you. It was difficult for him to talk to girls when he never knew if they wanted to talk to Harry Potter, Boy Hero, or Harry Potter, Seventh Year Gryffindor.

Smiling, Hermione went back to reading.

Before long, Ron and Lorrell came over. Ron sat in the empty chair, and Lorrell sat right next to Ginny. "So, what going on over here?" asked Ron.

Harry and Ginny quickly moved apart, and Hermione cursed her ex-boyfriend's thoughtlessness. Just because he was having no troubles spending time with a girl didn't mean everyone was so fortunate. She was surprised Lorrell didn't realize the situation either.

"Books, Ron," she told him in a clipped tone. "You don't like them, so maybe you should find something else to do."

"Whoa, alright then. A bloke can see when he isn't wanted. Hey, Lorrell, fancy some Exploding Snap?" Ron asked her.

"Um, sure. Yeah, that sounds great," Lorrell said, sensing the tension in the air but not knowing what to do about it.

They both left the area and headed over to where a few other students had gathered to play. Ron grabbed a butterbeer on the way for him and Lorrell as they settled in to watch and wait for their turns.

After the two exited, the pair on the sofa visibly relaxed and went back to their book. Hermione turned back to her textbook and kept an eye on the pair in the corner. She really was glad they were becoming friends and that Lorrell was settling in. She just wasn't glad enough to let it stall things between Harry and Ginny.

After keeping her vigil a little while longer, making sure Harry and Ginny were going to be able to spend the evening uninterrupted, Hermione closed her book and slipped up to the dormitory. Everyone else was enjoying the party, so she decided to enjoy the silence. She lay back in her bed and snuggled under her blanket until sleep came.

~~HGSS~~

By the time morning arrived, she could already feel the itch to play piano. She hadn't played at all since coming back to Hogwarts, and she had gotten rather used to playing more frequently. She decided that that evening she would sneak into the empty office she often used – Merrythought's, she thought it was – and transfigure the desk into a piano. It wasn't her Steinway, but over the past few years as her transfiguration skills had improved, so had her impromptu instrument.

Her classes that day seemed to drag on as she finally looked forward to something in the evening.

Now that her professors knew she was going to be teaching with them the following year, she could hear their pointed instructions to her during each class period. In Charms class, as Professor Flitwick was discussing their first test, he pointedly told the class his grading system and that he often graded the tests right after dinner with a cup of cider so that he could finish them all at once when he was nice and comfortable.

Professor Miller gave her twelve books to read.

Professor Sprout explained how Herbology was such an important subject because it dealt so closely with all the other subjects, including Transfiguration, and that her method of impartial judgment should be taken on by all the teachers.

Tonks emphasized the importance of demonstration and had Hermione come up and show the class a new defensive spell.

Professor Snape said nothing.

Taking her seat at the table in the Great Hall, she felt like laying her head on the table and taking a nap. Things had better not continue like this all year. Each of the professors had a day where they could drill their methods of teaching and their theories into her. Why did they need to do it every day? She felt like each one was trying to outperform the other, not realizing that their methods overlapped and interlocked.

The fact that Professor Snape was leaving her be made her grateful, and she felt even more respect towards him than before, even if he was probably doing it out of dislike or apathy.

As she pondered over her day, she didn't notice her fingers on the table top, absentmindedly tapping out a rhythm using the grained wood as her keys. She looked up to find Professor Snape watching her fingers as though trying to figure out the melody. With a sly smirk, she brought up her left hand to join her right and added the chords to the song in her mind.

This was how Beethoven must have felt. Feeling the instrument with your hands, knowing what you want it to do but only hearing it in your mind. She understood now why he still composed and didn't give up completely. The strokes of her fingers still played music in her mind and even that helped her bring her brain into focus. She looked up to see that her professor was even more confused.

Professor Snape was watching her keenly. What kind of magic was this, that she could create music on a table? Was this some charm he had yet to hear of or that she herself had invented? A fine thing indeed it must be to play on a whim.

Having never played, he had no concept of the ability to perform inside with outside stimulus.

She finished her meal and slowly treaded back toward the dorm where she planned to grab a few things and then find the abandoned office in which she could hide out for the evening and play her own concert. She didn't notice the man in the portraits following her, nor had she noticed him at dinner, peering in from the landscape across from the Great Hall entryway.

She heard a muffled cough behind her and turned to see no one. Puzzled, she turned back, only to hear the cough again.

"Over on the wall, Miss Granger. To your left. Up here with Mrs. Pivis."

Hermione turned again and looked up. Halfway up the wall was a portrait of an older lady, who was being intruded upon by one Albus Dumbledore.

"Can I help you, sir?" Hermione politely asked.

Albus smiled down at her. "Oh, I need nothing. Nothing at all. Just checking in with some of my favorite students in the castle. Have a busy night ahead of you?"

"No, sir. Not particularly."

"Are you planning on commandeering Professor Merrythought's office again?"

"You know about that? What am I saying? Of course you know about that," she said, dejected.

He chuckled. "Not many things happened that I didn't hear about. And now, not many things happen that I still don't hear about. I know you've been using her room to play in ever since you recovered from the basilisk in your second year, needing something to help take the edge off being the brightest witch in the castle and friends with the Boy-Who-Lived and his faithful sidekick, Mr. Weasley. I won't keep you then, my dear. Have a restful evening."

Nodding to him, she smiled and said, "Thank you, sir," and headed on her way.

Reaching the dormitory, she slipped off her student robes and put on a pair of Muggle jeans and a sweater. She tossed the textbook she had brought to dinner on her desk, ran a brush haphazardly through her hair, and grabbed her wand.

"_Accio_ Invisibility Cloak!"

In no time at all, a shimmering silver cloak came flying through her doorway. She knew that no one was in the Gryffindor towers right now, and she wasn't able to get into the boys' dormitory with no one in there. Harry had charmed the cloak to respond to her, Ron, and himself if called, and this was one of the times she was thankful for his forethought.

Not knowing how long she would be gone, it would be prudent to take the cloak with her. Head Girl or not, she didn't want to flout the rules.

Stuffing the cloak into her bag, she made her way through the quiet dorm room where the only sound was the crackling fire. Apologizing to the Fat Lady, she headed out into the hallway, and, after looking both ways, she started off to the office.

As soon as she arrived, Hermione began the difficult task of transfiguring a desk into a piano. She had to visualize the shape of the case, the soundboard, the tuning pins, and the strings. The action, pin block, and bridge were imagined with great detail and accuracy. Each key and pedal was lovingly crafted in her mind before the first wave of her wand. Slowly, she began her wand movements and incantation until she had exactly what she had envisioned.

Sitting down on the bench, which was hastily created out of the desk chair, she plunked out a few notes. Finding them satisfactory, she moved on to a few scales and other warm-ups. Finding the piano in tune and her fingers nimble and flexed, she brought out her music to play.

She had several books of music that she had brought with her. They were one of the few things she had kept from her childhood bedroom. Chopin, Brickman, and Liszt – of course. Rachmaninov, Grieg, and Satie. Matsui, Whitacre, and Mussorgsky. She had books for solo piano, small ensemble, and chamber orchestra. Some books were symphonies, some were selected works, and still others were Broadway, movie scores, and regional pieces. They constituted a library within her library.

Tonight, she pulled a few random selections. Mendelssohn, Beethoven, Satie, Chaminade, and Falla. She took out the Mendelssohn first, opened to the first song in _Opus 19b_, and began to play. (1)

~~HGSS~~

Professor Snape was in a bad mood. Bad even for him, not that many could tell. He hadn't had a decent night of sleep since the last day at Grimmauld Place, and he was almost – almost – to the point where he would go back there if it meant he could sleep again.

The other staff members were not helping the situation. All they could talk about was _Granger_. They all extolled her virtues, and it didn't help that he was feeling particularly indebted to her himself. Not that he should, mind you. It was no more than her duty to help serve, and if that meant making sure their top spy received decent rest and was in top form, then she could be doing more, and he was taking no more than was his due.

Dammit. He still felt beholden.

But he wasn't going to give her any _pointers_ on teaching, that was for sure. She could figure it out for herself, just like he had. There had been no one to coddle him in his first year, and he had done just fine. Even if she was younger than him, she had plenty of support and no need for a cold-hearted, cantankerous, uncouth old man.

But, cursing himself, he still wanted to help her.

He zapped that thought like a fly in a Muggle bug zapper. Severus Snape did not feel like helping anyone. He had helped quite enough, thank you, and look where that had gotten him. Nowhere, except stuck in a drafty old castle with people he detested and ungrateful children, working for one cause he didn't believe in, and another he wasn't sure about, serving two tyrannical masters. Even if one was dead, and the other was sure as hell not exactly living.

He watched the Granger girl - woman - _girl_ - as she tapped out a rhythm on the table, taunting him. He didn't know how she knew, but she was obviously aware that she had aided him in some way with her talents and was now flaunting the fact that she had the capacity, but not the inclination, to do so again.

He watched as she left and then finished his meal. The look on his face was stern enough that no one dared try to start up a conversation, and for that he was thankful.

Walking out of the Great Hall, he was accosted by none other than Albus Dumbledore as soon as he exited the doorway.

"Severus!" greeted the deceased headmaster.

"Albus," Snape flatly answered.

Dumbledore moved down to a portrait of mountains that was almost eye to eye with his quarry. "And how are you feeling this evening, my dear boy?"

Snape furrowed his brow at Albus. Even in death the man was twinkling. Why couldn't he just leave him be? "I've been better, as I'm sure you know. What is it you want? I'm in no mood to chatter."

"You never are," said Dumbledore.

Snape didn't notice that this was not his usual path to his quarters as he followed Albus's image, flowing from one frame to the next, down the hallway. The castle rearranged so frequently, he didn't really have a regular way. Albus continued to ask the younger wizard about his health, his classes, and anything he could think of, until they arrived in a mostly abandoned corridor.

"Well, I'm sure you have things to do besides listen to an old man prattle on! I'll leave you to your evening then. Goodbye, Severus, and do come visit."

Glaring at the figure in the frame, Snape watched as he disappeared. When Albus was gone, Snape looked down the hallway. Why in Merlin's name had the old man brought him here? Probably didn't even realize where he was heading.

Snape turned on his heels and prepared to head back to the main section of the castle when he heard it. (2) The soft, alluring strains of piano music wafting down through the dark and empty hallways, a siren song begging him to come closer and investigate. Tickling his curiosity, touching it gently, promisingly, encouraging his footsteps toward the door.

~~HGSS~~

Hermione wasn't exactly sure when it happened. Somewhere during Satie's _Gnossiennes_, she realized she wasn't alone.

She wasn't frightened. Curious, but not frightened. In fact, she had a pretty good idea who was outside the door. She wasn't sure how he had found her, why he was there, or why he hadn't said anything, but she was still sure she knew who it was, and she wasn't afraid of him.

Curious, but not frightened.

And maybe a little annoyed.

She wasn't anyone's personal pianist. She was playing for her own peace of mind, not for anyone else's. This was one thing she did that she did with only herself in mind. Everything else was for the Order, the school, her friends, the students. But this was for Hermione.

But now it wasn't just for her, and she was uncertain how she felt about sharing her time.

Then she remembered the haunted look in his eyes. The drawn face, the sorrow that reflected her own, and decided if she was going to share this with anyone, no one deserved it more than he did, and she played a little louder, ensuring he could hear. She hoped it brought him some peace.

When, in the middle of her song, the music swelled louder, he knew the game was up, and she knew he was there. He tensed, waiting for her to quit, to storm out, to tell him to find another corridor to lurk in. But she didn't.

She figured if he was out there, she might as well put on a good show. After she finished _Gnossiennes_, she pulled out Falla's "Ritual Fire Dance." (3) So she was showing off a little bit. She was the school's resident know-it-all. Hermione smirked a little as both hands flew over the keyboard and her fingers overlapped. Sometimes she was still amazed that so many notes could flow out of a piano at once with only ten fingers, two hands, and one mind.

After that was finished, sensing he was still out there, she pulled out "Autumn" by Cécile Chaminade. (4) Starting slowly, the song lulled the listener into a false sense of security, the notes reminding her of the falling leaves drifting down from the trees, before tearing away into a fierce pattern of chords and arpeggios. The bipolar song kind of reminded her of the dear professor outside. Sometimes so still and devoid of emotion. Sometimes so animated and fierce it made her head hurt. She hoped he liked this one.

Hermione could feel her night coming to a close, her lids lowering now as the frustration of the day was adequately raked across the keys and strings. She let the song flow into the piece she had waiting behind Chaminade. The _Piano Sonata No. 14 in C-sharp minor "Quasi una fantasia"_, Op. 27, No. 2, by Ludwig van Beethoven. The "Moonlight Sonata." (5)

The notes caressed her as she played. Sometimes, she wondered if this was what it was like to make love. She stroked the piano as it stroked back, both enraptured in the melody they created, neither complete without the other.

Still, from the doorway came silence.

The final chord came down, and she exhaled slowly, moving her neck and flexing her fingers, feeling the weight fall off her shoulders. Standing up from the bench, she stretched and waited to see if he would come in and yell at her, berate her for being out of bed at this hour and being a poor example to the other students. But he didn't.

Swiftly packing her music, she waited until she went outside before tossing on Harry's Invisibility Cloak. Peeking around the corner, she saw that the professor was gone.

But the air still smelled of spices.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: **Many thanks to my beta, Liongirl11, and my wonderful, frabjous, Brit picker shuldham! :D If you haven't read her stuff, go do so. She's on Ashwinder. Tell your friends.

Reviews totally and completely make my day. I will pause in the middle of whatever I am doing and answer. Sometimes even in my sleep! I love everyone that has been putting this on their story alerts but, honestly, I love reviews more. ^_^ This is my first long fic, and while it's a slow buildup, I love to hear you are all along for the ride.

I am also happy so many of you are enjoying the music playlist. Again, I do highly recommend you listen along.

**Playlist: **http://www. youtube. com/view_play_list?p=9601199243ED835F

**Chapter Five**

Morning was never easy. Hermione had the ability to get up early, but she certainly preferred not to. With a groan, she rolled onto her side and pulled the blanket up to her chin.

"Hermione," said a much too cheery voice. "It's time to get up."

"Don't wanna. Why did I agree to this again?"

"Because," said the chipper voice, which Hermione now realized belonged to Ginny. "You know Professor Sprout wants to see you before the majority of her plants go into hibernation for the winter. Plus, she wants to be the first to tell you why her methods are the best ones to use in your classroom."

"She's a Hufflepuff, Gin. I doubt she thinks like that. But you're right, I need to get up." Hermione sat up in her blankets and stretched, questioning the logic of telling Ginny about teaching the following year.

Ginny was giving her an odd look. "Where did you get that thing?"

Confused, Hermione asked, "What thing?" and began to look around her.

"That blanket. Was it…you know. One from home?"

"Oh no, it's not one from home," she told Ginny. "It's one from…" Hermione glanced around the room to see if anyone else was awake. "…It's from Harry's," she told her friend with a significant look.

Ginny nodded her understanding. "But why did you bring it?"

"Um, well, I'm not sure exactly. It seems I've grown attached to it, and it found its way into my trunk. I woke up with it the morning after Ron and I broke up."

Ginny looked slightly horrified. "Did Snape cover you?"

"I…I think so. I don't really know, I was sleeping. But when I woke up, he was there in the room, so maybe."

"That's kind of disconcerting. It's like he was being nice."

"Well, I think he can do that on occasion. Rare occasions. Maybe this was his one good act for the year," Hermione said with a smile. "But I think if people were nice to him, it might up his quota."

"Well, I can see you've found yourself a theory. Have fun with that. And get to the greenhouses!"

"Circe! I almost forgot!"

Hermione leapt out of bed and ran a brush through her hair. Then she picked out worn clothes suitable for getting filthy in a greenhouse and a robe before heading down for breakfast.

Two pieces of toast and some juice later, Hermione found herself out in the sunshine walking to the greenhouses. The path outside was long and made of dirt and cobblestone. Running her hand along the low stone wall alongside it, she felt content and eager to start her training.

Since she was to shadow each teacher for a day, she would have those days off from her other studies. Headmistress McGonagall reasoned that the absences were still for her education, and she would hardly suffer from missing a class here and there.

On her way to the greenhouses, she found Neville heading in the same direction.

"Hi, Hermione!"

"Hey, Neville. Are you heading to see Professor Sprout too?" she asked him.

"Yeah, I'm working on a special project on crossbreeding plants. We're hoping to work on some new ingredients for research in Potions. I come down here on my free periods to check on the plants and see if Professor Sprout needs help with anything," he told her.

Hermione was impressed with Neville's dedication to his subject. She knew he had an affinity for plants, but didn't know his love for Herbology went far enough to make him spend his free time as an unofficial assistant to Sprout. "That's really nice of you, Neville. I'm sure she appreciates the help."

He nodded. "Not many students care much about Herbology. It's good to help."

"Well, you get my help today too!" She skipped down the last few steps that led to the final stretch of path before the greenhouses. Linking arms with Neville, they headed off to find the professor.

"Good morning, Professor Sprout," they both said, finding the little witch on her hands and knees, digging through a planter on the ground.

"Come in, come in," she called as she waved them over to where she was and handed them each gloves and trowels. "With the three of us working, this will get done in no time! Never be afraid to ask the students for help, Hermione. It will save you loads of time and give them extra learning opportunities, whether they want them or not."

Hermione ignored Neville's confused look as she answered, "Yes, ma'am, I'll remember."

"That's a girl. Now, can you get me some of that fertilizer that's over by the watering cans?"

Hermione grabbed the fertilizer and made her way back through the rows of fragrant flowers and herbs. It had a heady smell, heavy and palpable with perfume.

"Professor Sprout? Why are these flowers in bags?" Hermione asked, bewildered. There were several flowers growing out of what appeared to be common hessian bags.

"My poor Brownie Orchids," said Professor Sprout.

Ah, that explained the yellow leaves that looked like hair and the little blue caps on top.

"They need drainage, or the roots will rot and the leaves will turn yellow. My troughs are on backorder, and I have no idea when they will come in. This was the best I could do. Always remember extra supplies, Hermione, so this doesn't happen to you," Sprout answered.

"Yes, ma'am," said Hermione automatically. "But couldn't you just transfigure some pots out of unsuitable ones? I mean, it seems like that would be pretty easy. They would already be the approximate size, right? Maybe just a different material or some with holes in the bottom?"

Professor Sprout's brow wrinkled as she thought this over. "I've never been good with wand work, much better with my hands, but let's see if we can't transfigure us some pots! Never be afraid to learn, Hermione, however unlikely the source."

"Yes, ma'am," she answered again, her brain already turned to the problem at hand. "So, what is it exactly that you need?"

Professor Sprout went into a long description of the special troughs she needed. Clay, two feet wide, four feet long. They needed to have adequate holes in the bottom, and each plant had to have a little stool and a walking stick.

Hermione pictured this in her mind like she did the piano. Eight little stools and eight walking sticks, with little holes in the bottom of the trough. She picked up her wand, and in no time at all, she had a new vessel ready for the curious flowers.

"Splendid, dear. Simply splendid! Now I only need about twenty more, and I'll be set. Then I can just order some regular planters to replace these," said an eager Professor Sprout.

Twenty more? Merlin.

A good portion of Hermione's afternoon was spent making pots while talking to the professor about her teaching methods.

"You must put fairness above everything else, Hermione. Just because we are separated into houses does not mean that we have to be separated in the classroom. Each student has the potential to learn, and we, as educators, need to exploit that as much as possible. You will give them no advantage by showing favoritism. "

"I understand," Hermione said breathily. This much transfiguration was really starting to take a toll. She had expected to come back dirty, not depleted. "Is this how you normally spend the day?"

"Oh yes, Miss Granger. Hard work goes on out here in the greenhouses. Can't use a lot of magic, or it bothers the plants and the soil. We always have things growing and plants that need tending to or harvesting. It's nice to keep projects going in your field of study. If you just teach students, you get dull. You need to stay on the edge, learn what others are doing, and learn yourself. Keep on your toes!"

"Yes, ma'am," Hermione answered.

"Alright, Hermione," Neville finally burst out. "Why are you here?"

"I'm helping Professor Sprout, Neville," Hermione told him.

"But why is she giving you all this advice? Is she leaving? Are _you_ taking over?"

She supposed she was going to have to start telling people sometime, and not many were as trustworthy as Neville. She had made it a point to bring up the subject of how they were going to go about spreading the news when she had last visited the headmistress. It would have just been too suspicious for even Hermione, Teacher's Pet, to go around to all of the classes without a reason.

"Well, as you know, we have a replacement Transfiguration teacher this year. Professor Miller only wants to stay for one year, so I've been asked if I would replace her after we graduate. In return for not pursuing a formal education, I am being tutored by Headmistress McGonagall and receiving teaching instruction from each professor currently employed in the castle."

"Well put, Hermione," said Sprout. "But now its time for you to wash up and get some dinner. On with you both, and I will see you in class."

~~HGSS~~

Professor Snape was heading up the stairway to the Great Hall when he saw them. Two of the filthiest students he had ever seen. Longbottom was not a surprise. He was aware of the aid the young man frequently gave to Professor Sprout. But who was the bushy-haired twig next to him? Bushy-haired? Must be Granger.

Upon closer inspection, he could see that it was, in fact, a very tired and dirty Hermione Granger who was coming towards him from the front entrance. As she passed, he noticed the fragrant smell of flowers and fresh earth from the greenhouses. It must have been her day with Pomona.

With her wild mane of hair, a dirt smudge on her cheek, and the determined look on her face, she was almost…pretty. In a wild sort of way, like a fierce lioness.

Damn and blast. Was he comparing a Gryffindor to a lion? And did he just think a student was attractive? Vowing to add sleep and sunshine to his list of physical requirements – and NOT Gryffindors – he headed toward the Great Hall for dinner.

Sadly, however, he was delayed.

"Severus!"

"What, old man? Can't you see I am trying to intake the sustenance you were so certain was necessary for my continued existence?"

Snape was in another mood. But so was Miss Granger.

"She'll be playing again tonight," said the image of Dumbledore, once again in front of the mountains.

"Who will be?" Snape snapped back.

"Now, don't be obtuse, Severus. You know who will be. Miss Granger will no doubt be seeking the solace of her music this evening."

"And what's that got to do with me? I see no point in you delaying my dinner to inform me of the habits of students," he sneered. "Now, if you'll excuse me."

"I know how she affects you, Severus. She doesn't, I don't think, but I do." Dumbledore wore a small smile of triumph as he watched his old Potions master spin sharply and stalk straight to the frame.

Leaning in close for both intimidation and privacy, Snape growled in a low voice to the strokes of oil paint, "And just what do you think you know?"

"Relax, my boy. Your secret is safe with me. I know how she relaxes you, and how you actually rest and sleep after spending time with her. Do not begrudge yourself this small victory. It is not a weakness, you are merely smart enough to find and use this solution to your problem. Go to her, lurk in a corner if you feel more comfortable, but I don't think she will deny you what you seek. Whatever it is you seek."

At this cryptic comment, Professor Snape turned harshly back to the Great Hall, his long black hair swinging and brushing his shoulders, but not before he heard the portrait once again. "She'll be in the old Muggle Studies room tonight, Severus. The one on the third floor."

Not knowing or really caring how Dumbledore knew that, Snape finally headed in for his meal.

~~HGSS~~

_The wonders of magical plumbing_, thought Hermione after she had taken one of the longest showers of her life. It was amazing to her how dirt could get in places that had never seen the light of day.

Heading down to dinner, clean and refreshed, she met up with the other two-thirds of the trio. Laughing with them through dinner without Ginny, or Lorrell, or Neville even, brought her mind back to when things were simple, when Voldemort only theoretically wanted to kill Harry.

The three friends headed up to the common room where Hermione proceeded to drill them on what she had missed in today's classes.

"Really, Hermione, you didn't miss much of anything," said Ron.

"If there was nothing to teach, there wouldn't be class, Ron," she told him.

"But not everything is that important, 'Mione," said Harry.

"But what if it is, Harry? What if it comes down to some final showdown between you and V-Voldemort, and you lose because you didn't know something he did, because you didn't think this class of Potions was that important? You both have to remember he has years of experience in Dark Magic, and spells, and potions we know nothing about."

"Relax, 'Mione, alright?" said Ron. "You know we aren't taking him lightly. I mean, after what happened with Dumbledore…"

An awkward silence surrounded them. Hermione sat on the floor, absently flipping the pages of her book by the fire while the boys sat on the couch looking anywhere but at each other. Dumbledore was still a hard topic for them all. Harry was starting to realize how much he had been manipulated by the older wizard now that he wasn't under his thumb, and this was tainting the memories he carried. Hermione and Ron shared those feelings with their friend, but all three still cared for Dumbledore and ultimately trusted him. However, trusting his trust in Snape was a little harder to swallow.

Hermione's faith in him was never shaken for more than the two seconds it had taken to put the pieces together. Harry had described what he had seen, and they all knew about the curse and Snape's Unbreakable Vow to assist Malfoy.

Ron was lackadaisical. Hermione didn't think he figured it mattered much. Snape was here, whether for them or against them. Ron had no intention of talking to him or involving him in their plans in any way, so, to Ron, Snape was just a pawn on the chess board.

Harry went back and forth. Some days, usually when he was feeling maudlin about the Headmaster, he was convinced Snape had murdered Dumbledore. On the days when his brain was in charge, he trusted Dumbledore to make his own decisions and knew that he would never put that much faith in someone if they weren't completely his man.

"Surprised Snape is even allowed in the castle," said Harry.

Today must be a maudlin day.

Hermione sighed, clearly exasperated. "Professor Snape, Harry, and we've talked about this. You know that-"

"I know, Hermione. I know. It's just that it's not my opinion on whether he stays or goes. I cannot believe the Headmistress convinced the public that Professor Snape was innocent. Of anything. Ever."

So engrossed were they in their conversation that they completely missed the tall, blonde girl coming up to them. "What is this now? What is Snape innocent of?" asked Lorrell.

"Well…" hedged Hermione.

Harry coughed.

"It's sort of complicated," said Ron.

"I'm listening," Lorrell told him as she sat in the chair nearest him.

They looked at each other with mirrored worried faces. How much could she be trusted? They barely knew this girl, but she was staying with the Weasleys, and she had been at the headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix, even if she didn't know it.

"Let's go somewhere else," suggested Hermione. "Harry, grab the cloak."

"But, Hermione," protested Ron, "it won't fit four!"

"And as Head Girl, I don't need it."

"Oh yeah," he sheepishly said as Harry came back with the cloak.

Lorrell fingered the thin, shimmering fabric and watched as her hand disappeared underneath it. "That is way awesome."

Harry smirked at her and threw his cloak over his head.

Lorrell gaped at where Harry was no longer visible. "That…is bitchin'."

"Glad you approve," said Hermione. "Now get under. I'll put a Disillusionment Charm on your feet."

When all three were as situated under the cloak as they were going to be, Hermione led them out the door and up to the Room of Requirement.

The Room of Requirement was not always accessible to students, only responding when there was a true need for it. It didn't accommodate idle whims such as a place to snog or a twelve-lane bowling alley. However, it must have considered anything dealing with Voldemort to be a worthwhile need, because after it had aided them with Dumbledore's Army, they had never had a problem cajoling it into showing itself again.

Inside, they found four chairs facing each other beside a roaring fire. In the middle of the chairs was a round table with tea, cider, pumpkin juice, sandwiches, and biscuits. The room was obviously expecting them to take a while if a house-elf was called to offer refreshments.

Hermione lovingly stroked the stone bricks in thanks on her way in. She was fairly certain that after all the years of magic that had been used within its walls, the castle itself had become sentient. Either way, as her parents had taught her, it never hurt to say thank you.

The students each found a chair to sit in and poured themselves something to drink.

"Well," said Hermione. "What do you know about the story of Harry Potter?"

Lorrell's eyes flicked to Harry and his scar. "Nothing, really. I know his name, something about how his parents were killed." She noticed Harry's wince. "Sorry, Harry."

"It's alright. Basically, my parents were fighting against Voldemort, and he heard about a prophecy he believed referred to me, that I would one day kill him. So he came to kill me first, and my mum stood in the way, and he killed her. When he used the Killing Curse on me, it didn't work because I was protected by her sacrifice. I got my scar, and the curse rebounded, destroying his body."

"So, in our first year here, we found out that he was trying to get the Philosopher's Stone. He kind of inhabited the body of our Defense Against the Dark Arts professor," said Ron.

"Ironic, really," added Harry.

"So," Hermione continued, "Harry destroyed him again by touching Professor Quirrell. That's how he found out that Voldemort couldn't stand to touch him. Harry defeated one of the objects in which Voldemort stored a piece of his soul to become, essentially, immortal – a Horcrux – in our second year. Then Harry came face to face with him our fourth year at the Triwizard Tournament when Voldemort killed our classmate, Cedric. Harry managed to get away because when they cast at each other, their wands connected and caused a form of Priori Incantatem. Their wands both share cores from feathers of the same phoenix."

"Fifth year was a battle at the Ministry of Magic. That's when I found out about the prophecy," said Harry. "We fought a group of Death Eaters, and my godfather was killed. Last year, Dumbledore was cursed when he tried to open a Horcrux, and it was killing him, but Professor Snape managed to slow the process. Someone was supposed to kill Dumbledore, but Snape made an Unbreakable Vow to help that person if they were unable to complete the task, so when that person backed down, Snape had to kill Dumbledore."

Lorrell gasped. "He killed your headmaster? And people know this, but he still teaches here? I don't think so. That's crazy!"

"Well, it's not that straightforward," said Hermione. "Professor Snape joined the Death Eaters when he was very young and very angry. But he quickly came back to Dumbledore and became a spy for the Light. He has been a member of the Order of the Phoenix, which is the secret group of wizards fighting against Voldemort, almost as long as we've been alive. Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall trusted him implicitly. The Headmaster knew he was dying, and he asked Professor Snape to kill him so that the other person wouldn't ruin his soul. Harry heard him try to get out of it, but Dumbledore wouldn't listen. Snape did what had to be done."

"So," said Harry, "Professor McGonagall told everyone that Dumbledore fell out of the Astronomy tower the night the school was attacked and that Snape tried to save him. Voldemort thinks that Snape being at Hogwarts means that he can keep an eye on the student Death Eaters and me, but really he is helping to protect the school."

"So, basically, he's a bastard, but he's a helpful bastard," said Ron.

Hermione glared at him. "Succinct, Ronald.

"The house that we went to the night before traveling to Hogwarts is mine; it was left to me by my godfather. It's the headquarters of the Order," said Harry.

"Wow. Over in the States, we hadn't really heard about any of this. What can I do to help?" asked Lorrell.

The three other students just looked at her.

"Well, we didn't really tell you all this to get you involved. I mean, it isn't really your problem," said Ron. "We just wanted you to know what was going on."

"I'm here, so it's my problem now. What can I do?" she insisted.

"Well," said Harry, "I suppose that we can get you in the DA, our student group that trains to fight. It was started under Umbridge – a vile cow placed as a teacher and then as Headmistress under Fudge, - and I think McGonagall knows it's still going on, but she hasn't said anything. Ginny has been heading it this year in case, well, stuff comes up."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "And it always does."

"Cool," Lorrell said. "Just let me know what's going on and if there's anything I can do to help."

"Yeah, we will," Harry promised her, and they each grabbed a last sandwich before heading out.

"You guys head up to the tower. I'm going to do my rounds first," said Hermione.

The boys and Lorrell left, and Hermione headed down a different stairway. For the second night, she had a longing to play. She hated using the same room too often, so tonight she was going to go to the old classroom on the third floor.

Desk into piano and chair into bench, she was almost ready. She had shrunk some music and slipped it into her pocket before she left, so now she enlarged it and set it on the piano.

Thinking about the Room of Requirement, she decided to pull out some Mussorgsky and set out his _Pictures at an Exhibition_. Flipping to the page she wanted, she settled in for an evening of solitude. (1)

~~HGSS~~

Professor Snape crept down the hall from which he could hear music emanating, and as the old man had predicted, it was coming from the old Muggle Studies classroom.

Tonight's selection was slow and pensive, almost foreboding. He sort of liked it.

No sooner had he positioned himself outside her room then Hermione had that feeling again. If he would just announce himself and state his intentions. What did he want? Why couldn't he just say, "Miss Granger, may I impose on your time?"

But no. He was lurking again.

Was she bringing him the peace she had hoped? Was he just making sure she was okay? No, that didn't fit. This was not the first year she had wandered about, just the first year he had followed.

She continued to play, and like the night before, by the time she finished, he was gone.

The next morning in Potions she watched him carefully. It seemed like he was avoiding her. He completely ignored her raised hand and didn't even bother taking points off when she kept raising it. However, he looked a little less edgy. Snape's movements were fluid, and he seemed more focused.

Was she his version of Dreamless Sleep?

Pondering this, her brow creased, Hermione didn't even realize she was staring at him until she saw his back stiffen at her glare. Eyes popping wide, she gave him a little smile before putting her head back down into her cauldron.

~~HGSS~~

He was even more confused.

The following night, Albus popped into the portrait just outside his chambers to see how he fared. Realizing that it was indeed contact with the girl and her music that kept Severus sedated, Albus informed the restless man of her location that evening.

Even if the young witch herself hadn't figured it out, she did have a routine.

~~HGSS~~

Hermione was curious to see if he would come by that evening. She set up her piano closer to the door than usual and listened as she played.

Professor Snape slid into the shadows again, hoping she wouldn't notice.

She kept thinking how awkward this whole situation was. The boys would have a fit if they found out she was entertaining Professor Snape of all people during her evenings.

And that he was apparently enjoying it. (2)

Feeling a bit cheeky, she said aloud, "This is called 'Melodi.' It's by Edvard Grieg. It reminds me of a song called 'Memory' from the Muggle musical _Cats_."

She received no answer from outside.

Playing a little while longer, she said, "This is from the same composer but a different book. It's called 'At Your Feet.'" (3)

If only she knew how true that was. He was finding himself becoming addicted to the sleep she provided and, therefore, to her. Snape found his mind drifting to the evenings spent in her company during inopportune times of the day, and at times other than when he was craving adequate rest.

Sitting outside her room, he wondered about the witch inside. Who was this woman – girl – _woman _who allowed him to intrude upon her time? Everyone he knew on both sides of the war, with the exception of Albus and usually Minerva, either fled from him or felt tense in his presence.

He knew he wasn't a likeable man. He hadn't been a likeable child either. But he wondered what it was about himself that worked as a human repellant. Was he really in such need of companionship that he would risk his life and his very soul to spy for people who tolerated him at best? Was this all he was to ever know? He doubted things like love and friendship. In all likelihood, they were sentimental fools, unable to see things as they really were or rely on themselves. One didn't just surrender to another without anything in return.

But he was beginning to see, or remembering, what it felt like to feel…attached to something or someone.

He leaned back against the wall and reminded himself that attachment was not a good idea, while at the same time questioning why it wasn't.

As for the witch in question, she continued what she had been playing, knowing he was right outside and feeling a little disconcerted. Maybe, someday, he'd feel brave enough to come in and say something. It was odd, in her opinion, that a man could be so fearless in the face of evil. He could leap in front of them in times of danger; he could kill the only friend he had for the 'greater good'; he could risk his life to help their world…but he seemed to be terrified of, or at the very least unaccustomed to, dealing with people.

Maybe she wouldn't frighten him so much.

Or maybe she would make him run for the hills.

All she could do was toss out an olive branch and be patient, difficult as it was.

At the end of her piece, she rested her hand against the wall, feeling his phantom warmth on the other side. "This one reminds me of you. It's called 'Solitary Traveler.'" She brought both hands back to the keys. (4)

He listened as the music filled the air, even more confused than before. He could not deny that the music had a sense of solitude and loneliness to it, short as the piece was.

He smirked as he heard her soft whisper from the other side of the wall. "I'm going to show off again. Pretend to be surprised." (5) Then she launched into a fast-paced melody, full of chance and mischief. He could imagine the look of enjoyment on her face, and his eyes softened a bit.

So taken was he in the moment, he didn't even notice when she finished and quickly snatched her music off the piano before stepping out of the room. As soon as she hit the doorway, her footsteps faltered.

Knowing he was there and _knowing_ he was there were not the same thing. She clutched her music to her chest and looked at him a moment.

Sensing her hesitancy, he braced himself. This was when she would finally realize that he was not someone with whom to trifle. She would flee in the opposite direction before he tainted her, before she knew what it was to be acquainted with him. _Run and hide, little girl. There is nothing you can do or say that will-_

"Have a good night, Professor. It was nice having you."

And she walked away without waiting for acknowledgement.

He was wrong. There was apparently something she could say. Did she…did she really not mind him there? She had to have been joking.

Annoyed, he went back to his rooms and hoped sleep would still come.

Intrigued, she went back to her rooms and hoped sleep would still come.

~~HGSS~~

The next few nights, Hermione focused on finishing up her homework and catching up on what she had missed while she was visiting Professor Sprout. Professor Miller was as heavy with the homework as Professor McGonagall had been, but it was mostly practical application and group assignments.

Testing her Potions professor, the next night she went to play, she moved into a room she had never been in before. She had been tempted to use the Room of Requirement to see how determined he was to listen to her, but she felt guilty using the room for nefarious purposes that didn't stem from any real need.

He was later than usual, but her theory that he had an informant or a tracking charm on her or something was confirmed. Hermione was half tempted to call Dobby and question him, but she decided it didn't really matter. Nothing stayed secret in the castle for long.

After the third night he had listened to her play, she had definitely noticed a change in him. A bit of the grumpy was out of his face. He didn't look quite so stern, and the black beneath his eyes that had appeared over the summer had started to fade. Now if she could just get him to eat and smile, he'd be set.

At that thought, she called Dobby and whispered in his ear. (6)

Professor Snape jerked back and withdrew his wand as, with a small _pop_, a plate of finger foods and a cup of tea appeared at his side. Scowling, he picked up a sandwich and began to nibble as he sat there.

Hearing the scrape of the plate, she smiled and said, "Anything can change, sir, if you believe," and continued to play.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: **Continuing thanks to Liongirl and shuldham for being more awesome than me.

Each and every review makes me happy, whether it's concrit, a line you enjoyed, or your reaction to developments. This is one of my favorite chapters, so I hope you like it.

I am very pleased with those of you taking the time to listen along. It's good to know you think it makes a big difference too.

Again, this story IS completed, and will be uploaded every Sunday. Although, look for a bonus chapter soon for a very special reason.

**Playlist: **(remember to remove the spaces) http:// www. youtube. com/view_play_list?p=ED7664A55485611E

**Chapter Six**

Professor Snape Apparated back to Hogwarts with a soft and practiced '_pop'_. He took the mask from his face and placed it in his pocket as he took the heavy cloak from his shoulders and threw it over his arm. Now if anyone saw him, they would just assume he was coming from the forest, and, with that in mind, he set a brisk pace for the front door.

He only wished that he were, in fact, coming from gathering ingredients in the forest or imbibing in a last drink at the Hog's Head.

Instead, he was coming from a meeting with his _other_ master – Voldemort.

Sometimes the meetings were at Malfoy Manor, and those were when they discussed strategy. Insane as the Dark Lord was, he was not stupid, and he was determined not to have any holes in his plans. He was fanatical about knowing the movements of his enemy. He wanted to know how many were in the Order, what they were planning, where they were located, if Potter was planning anything himself.

Other times, the meetings were held in other wizarding homes or, on bright nights, outside in a clearing. These meetings were often raving sessions, when the Dark Lord was not in control of his mind. He would rant about the injustice done to him and all the reasons that pure-bloods should rule after eliminating the Muggle-borns. At these times, it was best for him to hold his tongue, lest he lose it, and wait out the evening. It usually didn't take long. These meeting were, in a way, his favorite. He was sure to come away with something of amusement, and often a new profanity as well.

Tonight was not one of those meetings.

Sometimes, the maniac got it in his head that his followers could not be trusted. There was a spy amongst them, someone who did not believe in the cause of the righteous. Those nights were the worst, the nights they had to prove themselves once again.

The confirmations were even worse than the raids. Most of the raids he was able to avoid in order to "keep his cover at Hogwarts." It would be suspicious, he had explained, if he was gone on too many of those nights, too coincidental. And as the Dark Lord would rather have someone with an eye on Potter rather than another assassin and minion, Snape was not generally called on those evenings. Often, regrettably, he was not even informed of them.

But on these nights, the nights of their reaffirmations, one never knew what was going to take place. It was never as easy as a vow and kissing the Dark Lord's hands and robes. No, it was often an act related to the cause. Torture, rape, murder. Imperio a husband, and make him kill his wife. Make the children watch as their parents are killed, before the children follow suit. Sometimes, the parents watch first.

These nights, he had no plea for escape.

Tonight was a young girl, taken before her first year of school, trembling within the circle of hooded and masked men. Snape was not certain if she would have attended Hogwarts or gone abroad. The origin of the victims was hardly relevant to most of his _associates_. To show their loyalty, each was to spill some of the red from her dirty veins. One by one, the curses flew as the girl screamed. Screamed for the parents who had no inkling as to the fate of their child. Possibly were still unaware she was missing, or were no longer among the living. She was no fight for them, the Dark Lord proclaimed as the light left the girl's eyes. Look at her – poor, worthless Mudblood.

_Of course she was no fight, she was a child,_ his thoughts screamed. Children should not be raised to know conflict, to know curses, to know defense, to know death.

And he would know.

~~HGSS~~

Earlier in the evening, Hermione had received an unexpected owl from the Headmistress. It asked that she inform a portrait of her whereabouts if she should leave the common room and strongly suggested she find something outside the tower to occupy her that evening.

Unnerved, but able to take a hint, Hermione wrapped up her studying with the boys early, not that they minded in the least. Grabbing some music from her shelf, she headed out of the common room.

"I'll be back after a while, guys. Just going to make sure everything is in order," she told her friends.

"No problem, Hermione," said Harry.

"Have fun," echoed Ron.

Hermione stepped out of the portrait hole. Turning to face the Fat Lady, she fidgeted a moment in discomfiture before telling her, "Um, excuse me. Sorry to bother you, but if anyone is looking for me this evening, I'll be down in Professor Merrythought's office."

Nodded her head, the Fat Lady responded, "Very good, dear. I'll make sure the message gets passed."

Wondering where exactly the message was to go, she made her way downstairs.

~~HGSS~~

Storming through the front door of the castle, Severus could not stop thinking about the girl. Her eyes had been brown, like brushed gold. Why was it he could always remember their eyes?

"Severus?"

"No. Not today, old man. Whatever it is, I assure you, I do not care, and it can wait until morning," he told the portrait without even pausing in his stride.

"She is downstairs tonight, Severus. In the office again," said Dumbledore.

Snape halted abruptly and turned to glare at the portrait before passing it and heading down into his chambers. Ridding himself of the mask and cloak, he poured himself something to drink – juice or herbal tea only on these nights, thank you. No caffeine and no alcohol.

He paced his chambers, willing himself to calm down. Dreamless Sleep was out of the question as he had early classes and could rarely afford to be completely out of contact should his Slytherins need him. Throwing himself into a chair, he swirled his cup of tea. It was not relaxing in the least. His tea was the color of the young girl's hair.

~~HGSS~~

He found her easily tonight, coming to the first place they had "met" in the castle.

Hermione heard him arrive with a thunk of what she assumed was his head against the stone wall. Again, able to take a hint, she could also guess from where he had just come. She didn't know whether to be flattered or concerned that someone obviously knew the condition he would come back in tonight and wanted her to help him.

She knew tonight was not an evening for anything allegro or presto. Relieved she had come prepared, she pulled out a nocturne. Knowing he would not care who it was by or what it was called, she silently played. (1)

The tension in the air was thick, but Hermione had a feeling only she could feel it. She was so full of questions, but not one would she dare ask. Where, exactly, had he come from? What atrocities were added to his list tonight? She had only ever seen two people perish, and it had been enough to haunt her dreams. She had a feeling it would be that way no matter who it was she saw pass.

Was this why he couldn't sleep?

Supposing it was her Gryffindor nature, she simply could not fathom having to act so against her moral fiber. Could she kill Ron or Harry if it came down to it? Could she murder an innocent, knowing it might save future lives?

Thinking about her professor made her feel culpable when she reflected on their past behavior. It was true she had attempted to teach the boys to refer to him with respect, but how hard had she really tried? Certainly, there was more she could have done. He was just so damned good at not letting anything show. His exhaustion or his worries. Who knew what it was that kept him up at night?

Even Hermione had made light of his surly behavior, but never had she done anything to curb it. Sure, she had said "good morning" or "thank you" a few times, but that was just common decency.

But she couldn't remember anyone else saying those things to him.

With a heavy heart, she began "Für Elise." (2)

~~HGSS~~

After his head met the wall, he allowed himself to take a deep breath for the first time that evening. Down here in this unused corridor, there were no reminders. No nagging Minerva, no meddling Dumbledore (even as a portrait), no accusing Dark Lord, no scheming Lucius. No bed he always slept in, fitfully recounting the number dead and the deeds assessed accordingly. No mask and cloak he was forced to wear to hide his face. No strict frock coat and teaching robes he was forced to wear to hide his soul. No forbidding castle entryway through which he always passed as he returned, alone, with no one waiting on the other side now that Albus was gone.

But tonight, Albus had been there. And here, now, on the other side of the wall, someone was waiting.

The young woman (his mental compromise) was playing a soft and slow tune. (3) The first two he had recognized, but this one he did not, though he knew he should not be surprised. This was one area where her knowledge vastly outstripped his. He had no doubt that there were others. Resting his head against the wall – gently, this time, as he had no use for a concussion –Professor Snape let himself clear his mind of the turmoil and focus on the anticipation of each falling note and silent pause in between.

Pulling out the next few songs, Hermione felt a ghost of a smile. Would he be amused, knowing his evening was no longer Liszt-less? (4)

_Harmonies poétiques et religieuses_ was a collection Hermione returned to often. It held such an expanse of emotion, from 'Cantique d'Amour,' the song of the deep love of the composer (for several people, if she read correctly), to the current piece, 'Pensées des Morts', which was a dark and pensive look at mortality and the possibility of the infinite. She had selected the piece because it fit the evening and would follow it with 'Pater Noster,' a short little reflective piece.

She had thought of the man outside the doorway when she had selected the final piece, and now she used it to send up a little prayer for him. (5)

Hermione closed her eyes as she began to play, letting her head tell her where the familiar keys were while her heart was in other places.

Feeling herself get lost in the music, she wondered offhand if her being a witch ever influenced her playing. She doubted it as she was by no means the first magical pianist, and she knew just by watching Muggles play that they often felt the same as she. It must be that, in their own way, the notes themselves were magic.

With the barest whisper, she brought the song to a close. Not wanting to disturb his thoughts if he was still present, she softly shrank and stowed the music.

What she saw outside her door rendered her momentarily frozen.

Professor Snape was asleep.

Why did this simple act make her want to weep? She hadn't realized that she had been pulled as taut as a bow string until the tension of seeing him again was released. But instead of flying away, she felt the arrow pierce her chest.

His feet were drawn onto the bench outside the room, his arms wrapped around his legs as though for warmth or protection. His head was resting against the wall nearest to where her piano sat. Snape's face was almost serene, lips slightly parted as he slept.

Hermione gave another start as she realized he didn't have his robes on. She had seen him without them, of course, but the only time she had seen him without them inside the castle was during the duel her second year, and now it just…struck her differently, somehow.

She almost walked away, knowing whatever she did would be unwelcome. But what if no one ever did anything for him, thinking it would be unwelcome, and they were wrong? Hermione could only imagine the stiffness and soreness he would experience if he woke in the morning in that position, not to mention the embarrassment and potential danger to his person. One never knew the loyalties of every student.

With this logic in mind, she made her decision.

Lengthening the bench was no trouble, and after extending it a foot on either side, she pondered her problem once more.

Slowly, ever so slowly – in fact, treacle on a cold day in the castle slow – she laid him prone on the bench. Her charms skills were tested as she focused on not moving a single limb or a single hair more than needed.

Forgetting herself, she almost cheered when she had him almost completely prone. Seconds before his head hit the bench, she panicked. When his head hit that cold stone bench, he was going to wake with a start, and she was going to be in big trouble. She needed to transfigure a pillow, which was not a problem, but her wand was currently trained on his body.

_Well_, she thought to herself, _are_ _you the brightest witch in the castle or aren't you?_

She reached into her pocket and grabbed her handkerchief. Yes, it was one of the nice monogrammed ones her mother had given her for her birthday one year, but this was an emergency. She could distinctly envision it coming to fly back at her in the near future anyhow.

Keeping the majority of her attention on her charm, she attempted to deviate just enough of her magic for a small pillow.

Hermione was even more thankful now that she had been such a swot and practiced wandless magic last year. When she had begun learning, she had imagined it would be useful in the fight against Voldemort.

This was aiding the fight as well…right?

Her concentration almost broke under her joy as she realized she was holding a small, soft pillow. Halfheartedly wishing the Headmistress were here, she slid it beneath his head and rested him against the bench.

His breath hitched, but then he lay still.

A quick transfiguration of her student robe into a soft, black blanket and a Disillusionment Charm later, Hermione was unable to resist the temptation to watch him as he slept. She had never really had the opportunity to just look at him. One did not often find themselves sharing tea and conversation with Professor Snape, as a student or otherwise. To stare at him was to risk being glared at, insulted, or shunned.

Feeling a bit reckless – and more than a little curious – Hermione stepped close and rested her gaze on his pale face. In slumber, she could see his long, black lashes, and short sideburns. The crease between his eyes was relaxed, and the ghost of tomorrow's stubble could be seen.

Hermione's eye focused on a small smudge of something copper below his ear, as though his hands were dirty, and he had touched his face.

She looked down just in time to see her hand mere inches from his face. With a gasp, she pulled it back and verily flew up the castle corridors into her dorm room. Hermione felt like tonight was all some strange dream where, at any moment, the room would start to spin, and she would be cast into some unknown dungeon of Hogwarts. Or it was a test she had failed, and an incensed professor was going to come flying at her for taking such liberties with his person.

After a few – okay, several – steadying breaths, Hermione was able to find sleep, curled up and hiding in her newly acquired quilt.

~~HGSS~~

In the morning, Professor Snape was momentarily perplexed. Stretching from possibly the best sleep he had had in twenty years, he was confused when his feet reached the edge of his bed and dangled off the end.

He sat up with a start as he realized he was not in his chambers. He was in a hallway. In broad daylight. Whipping out his wand, he frowned as he surveyed the area.

Then it all came back to him. The meeting, the screaming, the solace. Solace?

Granger.

Taking his blanket in hand, he murmured a spell which returned the object to its original form and was not surprised to find Gryffindor student robes. Tossing the garment over his arm and looking down at the bench, he picked up his small headrest.

Lightly brushing the light blue monogram, Snape hesitated to transfigure it back. Voicing the spell once again, his face bore a ghost of a smile when the handkerchief appeared, still bearing the monogram. Stowing it in a pocket, he stalked off to his chambers.

~~HGSS~~

The next day, Hermione was fidgety in all of her classes to the point where Harry asked her if she wanted to go play Quidditch or something to burn off her excess energy. She made her excuses, unable to explain that there was a very large shoe over her head, and she was just waiting for it to drop.

Hermione hadn't heard anything after their meeting the night before, which was more distressing than if she had been chewed out before breakfast. She was relieved to see him arrive, freshly cleaned and clothed, sparing no glance at her person.

She was composed by the time Potions came around, channeling her usual focus into the project and figuring that if he wanted to have it out with her, he would. Lord knows nothing had stopped him before.

_Hermione Jean, that was uncalled for_, said the voice in her head, and she almost responded, "Sorry, Mum." Sheepishly, she looked back at her cauldron.

Professor Snape was composed as well, giving the class a mostly apathetic gaze from behind his desk whenever he looked up from his grading. Being a N.E.W.T.-level class, he refrained from stalking around the room – for the most part anyway.

Hermione started as Harry leaned over with a question. She shot a panicked look toward her professor, waiting for his bellow and a loss of points.

Harry then had the nerve to lean over again after that didn't happen and remark that Snape hadn't said anything.

"Well, don't keep pushing it!" she fiercely whispered back, earning her a lazy eyebrow raise from the teacher.

Assuming that that was her signal to ignore last night, she gathered her things at the bell and headed out with the other students.

Professor Snape watched them all leave, releasing a sigh of relief and worrying the small square of cotton in his pocket. The girl hadn't made things difficult by demanding gratitude or familiarity.

And for that, she had a bit of both.

~~HGSS~~

As Hermione headed up to Gryffindor Tower, she noticed small groups of students talking in hushed voices around the castle. Thinking back, there had been quite a bit of subdued chatter today, but she had been too caught up in her own problems to notice. Wondering if there was anything the Head Girl needed to put a stop to, she pulled Ron and Harry aside in the common room.

"You haven't heard?" asked Ron.

"Well, obviously not," she told him, a bit annoyed, as she found her usual chair to sit in.

Ever since their first year when the famous Harry Potter had come to Hogwarts, they had been sitting in the same couch and chairs. The other students rarely used them, sitting in the other nooks around the room. Hermione wondered if they considered the grouping his throne.

Harry, oblivious to her thoughts, dropped into the chair opposite her, leaving Ron to stretch out on the couch.

"The news didn't come in until after you left," said Harry. "Where were you anyway? We waited up for you but didn't hear you come back."

"Just walked around a bit, had some quiet time. Sometimes it's just nice to get away from the tower for a while and hear myself think," said Hermione.

"Yeah, because you certainly don't think enough," said Ron.

"Shush, you," she told him, smiling. "You know what I mean. Well, then again, maybe you don't…"

"Hey! Give a guy a break, will ya? Just because I don't have a brain the size of a small planet!" Ron told her.

Lightly laughing, Hermione turned to Harry. "So, what big news did I miss?"

"There was an attack on a Muggle village last night," Harry quietly told her.

Hermione stopped laughing and glanced around the room to make sure they weren't being overheard. "An attack? Like a Death Eater attack?"

"Yeah," said Ron. "Apparently, several houses were burned down, and a few Muggles were tortured. They've been treated and Obliviated, of course, but there was one casualty."

Harry pulled his legs up to sit cross-legged in the chair and leaned forward. "We heard it was a young girl, about nine or ten. Don't know what happened to her exactly, but she was beaten and tortured. Someone left her body outside her parents' house this morning."

Hermione stifled a gasp. "When…when was the attack? I know last night, but what time last night?"

"I don't know," said Ron. "After dinner, I reckon. The body was gone until at least late evening."

Hermione closed her eyes tight. She was not going to cry here. She was not going to cry now. She could imagine exactly where her professor had been the night before. As much as she wished she didn't know, she handled the facts better than the empty holes left from wondering. She just wished the facts were different.

"Was she anyone we know?"

"Not that I know of," said Ron. "It was an all-Muggle family. She had just recently started to show magical ability, I guess. Probably the reason that that village was chosen."

Hermione had yet to open her eyes, and she laid her hand across the bridge of her nose. "What do you think all these attacks mean, Harry? Did you guys hear anything over the summer?"

"Not specifically," he responded, "but we heard about the Ministry trying to cover up the random attacks on Muggles and Muggle sympathizers. It feels like he is gearing up for something. I mean, now that Dumbledore is gone…"

"Don't talk like that, Harry!" Hermione shot back. "Professor McGonagall may not have been the head of the Order for very long, but she has been a part of this from the beginning, and I'm sure she will be a competent leader and hopefully a little more straightforward! At least she won't be forcing people to fight."

"What do you mean, forcing people? Dumbledore never forced anyone," said Ron. "We're fighting for him because we know it's the right thing to do!"

"But yeah, he did, Ron," said Harry.

"What do you mean?" asked the red-haired boy. "He forced you?"

"No. Snape. Remember? I overheard him last year telling Dumbledore he didn't want to do it anymore, and Dumbledore told him he had no choice."

"Yeah, well, he hardly counts."

"Ronald!" Hermione scolded. "Be more respectful to someone who puts his life on the line for a world who doesn't give two sickles about him, okay? You don't have to like him, but he deserves, at the least, your deference."

"Bloody hell, Hermione, fine," he said.

"Voldemort always seems to make a stand at the end of the year. Do you think he will try that again? It being your final year here, I bet he will now see you as a worthy opponent. I wonder if he didn't actually kill you earlier because you were just a student. He is the great and powerful Lord Voldemort," Hermione said sarcastically. "I bet he was waiting until it could give him more consequence."

"How nice of him," Harry responded. "Doesn't change the fact that there are still several horcruxes in-between him and mortality."

Hermione looked contemplative. "I wonder if you could get around them somehow."

"Doubt it," said Ron. "How do you ignore the fact that someone has bits of his soul missing?"

"Not ignore them, really. Just kind of reconcile them, or remove them as a factor. I don't know. It would require a lot of research and experimentation," she said.

"'Mione, for my sake, don't go experimenting on splitting souls, okay?" said Harry. "Read all you like, but no practicing."

She smiled. "I'll be careful, Harry. No going after a basilisk with a mirror this time, I promise."

Their conversation was interrupted by a small owl. He flew into the room and circled a few times overhead before landing on Hermione's leg. He nibbled on her fingers as she untied the small piece of parchment tied to his leg. As soon as it was free, the owl flew off.

Hermione read it slowly, her apprehension growing. "I've been summoned to the headmistress's office."

Harry's eyebrows rose. "I'm sure it's nothing. It's you, right? If it were something bad, I'm sure Ron and I would have been involved somehow."

"You're probably right. She probably just wants to discuss my training. I'll be back in a bit." She rose from her chair and headed straight out the portrait hole.

Hermione was torn between walking as slow as she could to delay the inevitable or running full speed to just get it over with. She was positive this meeting was about last night. What if Professor Snape was so angry with her that he had gone straight to the headmistress? Was she going to be terribly indignant with Hermione? Had she crossed the line? Surely Professor McGonagall wouldn't retract her offer of teaching, would she?

Rubbing her sweaty palms on her robes, Hermione spoke the password to the statue guarding the headmistress's office and rode the circling staircase upward. Shyly, she walked into the room and presented herself. "You wished to see me?"

"Yes, Hermione, I did. Would you care to take a seat?"

Hermione sat in a chair by the fire. "Is there something you need me for, Minerva?" She figured she would test the waters by using the headmistress's first name and gauge her reaction.

Minerva smiled reassuringly at her young pupil. "Yes, I there is, but first I would just like to chat with you. How did your first teacher meeting go? It was with Professor Sprout, wasn't it?"

Hermione nodded, relaxing a bit. "It went well. I learned quite a bit about what goes on behind the scenes in the greenhouses. Neville was out there too. I helped Professor Sprout transfigure some planters for her orchids."

"So Pomona told me. That was excellent work, Hermione. Not only did you save us a bit of time and money, you also showed a benefit of interdisciplinary teaching."

Hermione thanked the older woman and breathed a little easier. "It's kind of frustrating with all the teachers trying to give me their opinions. It's good that the meetings are spread out over the year at least."

"I can imagine. We have a very active staff here, and many are quite opinionated. I wanted you to see that there is no right or wrong way to teach. You will simply have to find the style that suits you best, and I assume that whatever style you choose will be an amalgamation of all of us. I can't see you strictly following in the footsteps of anyone here. If you like the grading methods of Professor Sinistra, the discipline of Professor Snape, and the attitude of Professor Flitwick, then by all means, use them." The Headmistress poured herself a cup of tea and offered one to Hermione, who took it gratefully and added one sugar and a little cream.

Hermione agreed that a combination of teaching styles would be beneficial and took a sip from her cup as Minerva broached the subject for which she had brought Hermione here. "So, Hermione, I wanted to talk to you about Professor Snape."

Hermione almost spit out her tea as she felt her heart race. "What…what about him?"

"I know he has been coming to see you," said Minerva as she set her tea down.

Hermione also placed hers on the desk. "Yes, he has." _Only acknowledge what has already been spoken. Don't offer additional information. Stall or ignore anything you can. _Hermione mentally recited the Trio's Tips for Troubleshooting Trouble.

"I'm sure, Hermione, you understand what kind of position he is in. It is not easy for him to be of service to us, to You-Know-Who, and to be a teacher here as well. It is of the utmost importance that he have no distractions and stay in top form."

"I understand," said Hermione with her head hung a bit low, feeling guilty. Should she have spoken to him? Was there some way she could have passively turned him away? What if she had-?

"Then you must understand that if, in order for him to keep himself well and focused, he has to come to you, he must be in serious need. I am hoping, dear, that you will not deny him."

The young witch's head shot up. "Excuse me?"

"I understand you are probably a bit reticent to allow his presence. He hasn't exactly been kind to, well, anyone. But especially you three. I know that he has been coming to listen to you play your piano this year, and that those are the only nights he truly sleeps well. After a night like last night, he typically would have been patrolling the halls until dawn and then teaching all day, which is fair neither to him nor to the students. Things will come to a head, Hermione, likely soon, and if you are what it takes to keep our link to the other side, then I am fervently hoping you'll agree. I know this is asking a lot of you, with your increased learning besides, but I wouldn't be asking if I didn't deem it essential."

Floored, Hermione processed what she had just been told. Minerva knew he had been coming to her, and she didn't mind. She was asking Hermione to allow him to come. Well, she hadn't been allowing him before, and that hadn't stopped anything. Would it be different if they actually acknowledged each other? "He's never even spoken to me," she said softly. "Since we've come to the castle anyway."

"I am not surprised about that. He is not an easy man, dear. Or a social one. I doubt he would know what to say, even if he did desire to say anything."

"True," Hermione responded. She felt compelled to point out, "He has already been coming without my permission."

"I know he has," said Minerva with a sigh. "But I think it might be better for you both to concede your understanding. It's been a trying time for both of you; maybe you can give each other someone to talk to."

Hermione looked skeptically at her Headmistress. "I doubt that. I don't think he wants anyone to talk to."

"I don't know if he has ever had the opportunity. Even I can't deny that I have an underlying agenda in my dealings with him. But that is neither here nor there. If you never speak, I do not care. I just want to know if you would be willing to let him come and listen."

"He didn't even have to ask," Hermione told her. "I really don't mind him. It's kind of soothing with him there." That sounded just as odd out loud as it had in Hermione's head. "Do you want me to let him know when I am playing, or should I set up a certain time? Or will he continue to find out however he has been finding out? I kind of play whenever the mood strikes and the time is available."

"That is a good question. I know you've been resorting to solitude when things get to be a burden. I imagine it is the same for him. Would you be willing to come down if he needed you?"

She thought that over. "As long as I have the time, I don't mind. It's rare for me to give up the chance to play," Hermione told her honestly.

"Well, as much as Albus doesn't mind meddling, it would probably be prudent for you to find a more reliable way to get in contact with each other."

So _that's_ how he had found out. Why wasn't she surprised?

As for the problem of contacting each other, Hermione gave Minerva a mischievous smile and rummaged in her bag. She murmured into her hand and then handed the woman a small object.

"And what is this?" Minerva asked.

"It is how the members of the D.A. keep in contact with each other. It's a charmed Galleon. I made this one work both ways so that I can charm the numerals on the edge to give a time and location, or he can charm it with a short missive. They heat up when someone has left a message."

"Wonderful, Hermione. I'll pass it on to him. And I appreciate you being so accommodating."

Hermione smiled. "It's no trouble."

"Oh, and before you go, I should give you this." Minerva reached into a desk drawer and pulled out a small folded bundle and handed it to Hermione.

Upon taking it, Hermione immediately recognized the feel of the fabric.

"I believe he wanted you to have those back."

Feeling the panic rise again, she said, "Minerva, I can explain. See, he was-"

She was cut off by a wave of the woman's hand. "No need, child. It's not hard to see that you two are…unfamiliar with each other. You both are trustworthy individuals, and I know that if there were an untoward reason for him to have your robes, he would not need me to return them."

Hermione released her breath. "Thank you. For my robes and for not misconstruing this."

"As you said, it's no trouble. Now off with you. I'm sure Mr. Weasley and Mr. Potter will be waiting for you to return."

"I imagine you're right. Goodnight, Minerva."

"Goodnight, Hermione."

Hermione made her way back to the tower where, sure enough, both boys were sitting at the chess table waiting for her.

"Took you quite a while, Hermione. Everything okay?" Ron asked.

"Yes, everything is fine," she told them. Noting the deserted room, she wondered if this was the right time to break it to the boys.

No, she decided. She had had enough drama for today.

"She asked me how I fared with Professor Sprout, and I told her about making the planters and such. I have to go to Muggle Studies next, which shouldn't be too difficult. She suggested I learn from each of the teachers I visit."

"Sounds reasonable," said Ron.

"So, now I'm going to bed. Goodnight, guys."

Hermione went to her room and unfolded her robes to put them back into her armoire. As she put them away, she noticed something was amiss. Her handkerchief was not in the bundle.

Shaking her head, she lay down under her quilt and, smiling to herself, fell asleep.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

**Playlist: ****www. youtube. com/view_play_list?p=456DBC783241923D**

She had been waiting for today. Not in the way one anticipates a birthday. More like the way one wants to get a root canal so that it will be done and over with.

After her meeting with the headmistress, the next few days were rather silent. Hermione dutifully went to all of her classes, even Potions. She had never been more tempted to skip that class than she had been following her conversation with Minerva. Even stealing from Professor Snape's stores hadn't made her feel this awkward.

But Professor Snape was the epitome of professionalism. He had given absolutely no indication that anything had changed between them. In fact, he had even taken five points from Gryffindor. She had apparently drawn attention to herself when he had asked a question the class couldn't answer, and she hadn't raised her hand. He had immediately called on her to supply the answer, and her lack of a response had informed him that she was not present mentally. It felt like the best points loss, ensuring, as it did, that everything was normal.

Feeling mollified, Hermione had been able to return her focus to her studies.

She found it strange though. The students had been whispering in other classes and in the halls that Snape was in a right foul mood, and they had been urging others to use an excuse for Potions if they had one. She even heard that he had made a fourth year cry. Yet he just seemed like his usual snarky self to her. But then, he had been relatively subdued to her so far this school year. Perhaps him being short with her meant he was being drastically short with others?

She was pondering this theory as she heard him bellow.

"POTTER!"

Her head snapped up in time to see Harry drop an extra porcupine quill into his cauldron, and she watched as though the world were in slow motion. Smoke began to curl and dance above the cauldron, growing and becoming angrier by the second. She went to pull her wand to Vanish it, but Professor Snape had already taken the cauldron from the flame as the potion exploded.

Luckily, it wasn't boiling, but it was still awfully warm and sticky. Not to mention that it contained quail urine and armadillo bile, which, coupled with the freesia extract, made everything it touched smell like an overused Portaloo.

But it was what she saw when she looked up that really bothered her. Professor Snape had Harry by the scruff of his neck pinned to the wall nearest his chair.

Harry had been sitting right next to Hermione, and she hadn't even seen him get snatched, which made her more than a little frightened at both this man's abilities and his anger.

"The recipe clearly states there are to be _two_ quills placed in the cauldron, you irresponsible, dull-witted, pillock! Not three. How many?"

"T-t-two, sir," stuttered Harry, nervous and gasping for air.

"And why, exactly, did you feel the need to put in three? Did you not believe the instructions were good enough for the Boy Wonder? Perhaps you thought you were, in fact, a prince of potions, here to regale us all with your mastery? The recipe is there for a _reason,_ and _only_ with caution and precautions should you alter it. This is a N.E.W.T.-level class, and I expect my students to Be. More. Responsible!"

Each of the last words was punctuated by a shake of his student, and Harry was now turning red from lack of air as the whole class watched in shock.

Hermione was terrified of what he would do to Harry. She could see little golden sparks emitting from the end of his wand, which currently, thankfully, was pointed towards the floor. Sucking in a breath, she hated to hear her voice break as she asked softly, "Professor?"

Pausing in his tirade, Professor Snape whipped his head around to glare at her. "_What_?"

"Puh-Please put Harry on his feet," she stammered, her wide eyes staring straight at his.

Her eyes like brushed gold.

Startled, he turned his head back to the gasping boy and quickly released him. Harry fell to the floor and rubbed his neck while he caught his breath.

Snape turned to see the class, and Hermione, still staring at him, mouths agape, and he felt something he hadn't felt in a long time.

Shame.

The emotion further fueling his anger, he growled to the class. "Get. Out."

Harry, having heard that voice before, scrabbled to his feet and was one of the first out the door. A few others lingered behind, uncertain if they should really be leaving the class.

"GET OUT!"

They had no more doubts.

Soon, the classroom was empty save for Hermione.

"Miss Granger," he rumbled tonelessly, "I suggest you remove yourself from my presence. Now."

"Just one moment," she said quickly and, throwing her bag over her shoulder, waved her wand and her other arm over the desk and overturned cauldron. Everything was quickly put to rights, and the ruined potion was gone.

Hurrying to the door, she paused and looked over her shoulder at her professor. He was standing in one corner of the classroom, head dipped low and one hand pinching the bridge of his nose while the other one sat on his hip.

"Have a…better…day, sir," she said, and then fled.

She wouldn't do it now, hoping for a modicum of subtlety at least, but, feeling the Galleon in her pocket, she knew tonight would be their first meeting.

~~HGSS~~

Had the girl really stayed long enough to clean up Potter's mess? Not only to clean up his mess but to bid him a good day as well? Severus didn't know what she was playing at, but he was not a fool.

If it hadn't been for her, he might have quite seriously injured Potter. He was not sure what had caused his anger to lash out. True, it was a seventh-year class, but it was a simple mistake, and he knew that for the most part, this class was fairly disciplined. When he had seen the error, it had just made him so furious. Hadn't Potter learned _anything_?

In his mind's eye, he watched as the dangerous potion exploded all over Granger, searing her skin, and who knows what else, all due to Potter's negligence.

The next thing he knew, he heard the sound of her voice and was looking into those damnable brown eyes. She had been so calm, so gentle, when she had spoken to him, like she was trying to calm a frightened doe.

But it had worked and snapped him to the present where the student's eyes had all been glued to him, their mouths gaping open and none daring to move a muscle, too shocked to try.

_Would I have answered, would I have listened, if it had been anyone besides her?_

Angered by the thought, he stormed out of his rooms, not wishing to be reminded of the incident any longer. Figuring that legitimately yelling at students would do him some good, he went on a patrol of the castle.

~~HGSS~~

Hermione stepped out of the classroom and leaned against the door, taking a few deep breaths to calm herself.

That had almost been really, really bad.

She headed up to Gryffindor Tower to check on Harry, and, as soon as she arrived, she was assaulted by Ron.

"Are you bloody mental?"

"Excuse me?" she answered.

"He would point his wand at you as soon as look at you, Hermione! And you think you can just step in like that? You could have gotten seriously hurt!" yelled Ron.

"And Harry _was_ getting seriously hurt. What was I supposed to do? Just sit there and watch the extinction of the Potters to keep the Granger line safe?"

"I don't know, get McGonagall or something!"

"There wasn't time, Ron," she explained. "I hoped he might listen, and he did. Harry is fine; Professor Snape will hopefully be in a better mood by morning. No harm, no foul, okay? Harry, how are you feeling?"

Ron was obviously not seeing reason as he walked away and out of the portrait hole, leaving the two friends behind.

"As well as can be expected. A little sore, a lot unnerved. Other than that, I'm fine. Pretty sure I'll remember to put in two quills for the rest of my life, though."

Hermione felt herself relax at her friend's humor and laughed. "I dare say you will. And good thing too. Do you have any idea how abominable that smelled?"

"Yeah, I do. You still smell a bit, in fact," said Harry.

"Wonderful. If you'll excuse me, I'm going to go freshen up," she told them. She was a bit embarrassed but knew it wasn't the first time she had been covered in muck.

She went up to her dorm expecting to find Parvati or Lorrell studying, but the room was empty. Hermione picked up her toiletries and a fresh set of clothes as she headed down to the bath.

If Harry thought the prefects' bath was nice, he really needed to see the Head Boy and Girl's bath. She wondered why it was so ostentatious for only two students, but she figured it was left over from some headmaster or something. She didn't have to worry about being bothered in there. The only people who could get in were teachers and Anthony Goldstein, and the portrait over the door warned if the room was occupied.

She relaxed into the bubbles and felt her day wash away. So content was she that she let her mind wander.

Did Professor Snape take bubble baths for stress relief?

Hermione thought about this, and her laughter soon echoed in the large room. Professor Snape in a large bathtub with a pile of bubbles on his head, still in his frock jacket. Ridiculous as it was unlikely, she savored it a moment before continuing.

After her bath, she quickly got dressed and tossed up her hair. Accessories in tow, she left the bathroom and walked into something she never wished to see again.

Ron had Lorrell pinned up against the wall in a corner near the bathroom. She wrinkled her nose as she heard the heavy breathing and turned away, both disgusted and embarrassed at Ron's hands all over the chesty blond girl.

Turned away as she was, she did not see the look of horror cross Ron's face or the bewildered look on Lorrell's. Lorrell obviously had no idea what kind of trouble she was in.

"Get off her, you fool! Mister Weasley, Miss Pepple, I believe that will be ten points for indecency in the hallways."

"But-"

"Each, Weasley. Miss Pepple, I understand you are American, but here in this castle, we have standards we uphold, and you are supposed to be models for the younger students in propriety, not licentiousness!"

Hermione was horrified to be caught in the hallway, fresh from a bath, with nowhere to go. She had to go past them to get back to the tower and was afraid to move lest she drawn attention to herself. Hearing every word Professor Snape spoke, she stood, still turned away, in the hall, hoping they would all leave before they saw her.

But no such luck.

Professor Snape saw her before the students did. Quirking his head, he squinted at her before turning back to the miscreants. "And in front of your last paramour too, Weasley. Poor form indeed. I believe that's another five points for discourtesy. To your dormitories." After a pause in which no one moved, he clarified. "Now!"

Hermione flinched and, red-faced, headed to her dorm room. As she walked past her professor, she didn't even look up but just watched her hair drip on the floor. She stayed far enough behind Ron and Lorrell that by the time she reached the dormitory, neither the blonde nor the red-head could be seen.

Professor Snape watched the students leave and gloated over making someone else the center of unwanted attention. Honestly, Weasley had been caught enough times with Miss Brown to know to use discretion. The boy apparently had the memory of a goldfish or the libido of a dog in heat.

He frowned as he watched Granger leave. She looked like a drowned rat. A sullen, limp, red-faced, drowned rat. Knowing all she had been through, and knowing this incident was in no way her fault, made him feel a tug on that little bit of something in his chest he forgot was even there. Perhaps he shouldn't have brought her into the conversation, not thinking about how it would reflect on her.

He thought that perhaps later he would apologize.

But he knew he wouldn't.

Mood once more sour, he continued stalking through the castle. Halfway back to his rooms, he felt a burning sensation. At first he flinched and grabbed his arm until he realized it wasn't coming from his arm, merely from near his arm, and he reached into his pocket to grab the enchanted Galleon. He had almost forgotten that Minerva had given it to him, tossing it into his jacket pocket. Squinting, he read the numerals around the edge.

_Room of Requirement 8pm_

Snape hadn't realized just how tense he had become until he felt himself loosen at those words. He felt like she was a Muggle drug to which his body was fast becoming addicted. Four days had passed since he had fallen asleep outside her door. Embarrassed as he was, he was placated by the fact that Minerva had said she was more than happy to play for him.

He was not going to be anyone's burden.

Mollified, he returned to his rooms.

Hermione focused on her upcoming meeting with Professor Snape in order to ignore her feelings about what had just happened with Ron. Snape might actually have to acknowledge her presence. She doubted he would want to talk, but they wouldn't just spend the whole time quiet…would they?

Holding a conversation with her surly Potions professor. Hermione really hoped she had made the right decision and hadn't just consigned Gryffindor to last place in the House Cup.

And what would he want to listen to? Before, he had wanted to remain unknown to her, so he had listened to whatever she had wanted to play. Did he have a preference? Hermione went through her books, adding one, subtracting that one, and then putting it back in, only to take out another. She couldn't bring the whole music library down with her, as much as she might want to.

She knew he was in a really foul mood, so she selected some pieces that usually helped her work out her anger, hoping they would help him too. It certainly couldn't hurt. About thirty minutes before eight, she headed to the Room of Requirement.

Thinking hard about what she needed, she paced three times in front of the section of wall across from Barnabas the Barmy, imagining exactly what she required. When the door appeared, she looked around her and then stole inside.

She sighed, grateful the room had filled her needs. A large fireplace with a large hearth and a roaring fire dominated one wall. A small seating area in front of that held two overstuffed lounge chairs and a small table. In the center of the large space was a baby grand piano. Hermione went straight to it, running her hands along the shiny black case and plucking out a few notes experimentally. "Well done, Room," she said aloud. "Well done."

Taking advantage of her time, she summoned Dobby. She really was going to have to thank Harry for him someday. Being Head Girl, she could call a house elf if she needed to, but most were wary of her after her misbegotten S.P.E.W. campaign. It was nice to have at least one house elf who was cheerful when he saw her.

"How can Dobby serve, Miss?"

"Hello, Dobby," said Hermione cheerfully. "May I have a spot of tea, please? Also, do you happen to know what Professor Snape likes to eat?"

"Yes, Miss! Those were the sandwiches Dobby brought last time Miss asked!" said Dobby, his large ears flopping as he spoke.

"Excellent, Dobby. I'd like a plate of them and some tea biscuits, if you don't mind," said Hermione.

Dobby violently shook his head. "Dobby does not mind at all, Miss! It is wonderful to help a friend of the great Harry Potter!" And with that, he was gone.

Hermione smiled and shook her head at the wee elf while warming up her fingers. At a few minutes to eight, she began playing Mozart's 'Piano Sonata No. 16' and heard the door creak open. (1)

Without a word, Professor Snape walked past her and took a chair.

He sat in silence and listened to her play. At the end of her piece, she paused and turned to him. "Is there anything you would like to hear, sir?"

"I have no preference."

"Oh. Alright then." She took in his posture and face. One leg over the other and hands clasped in his lap, he sat perfectly straight in the chair giving Hermione the feeling he was still quite edgy and irate. "Do you mind if I try something?"

He glared at her but offered no comment.

Nodding to him, she pulled out her music. "You've heard me play from this before, but now I can explain better what I am playing. Modest Mussorgsky composed one of my favorite suites. It's called _Pictures from an Exhibition_. I know it sounds strange, but that's exactly what they are inspired by. Viktor Hartmann, a friend of his, was an artist who died at only thirty-nine, but Mussorgsky helped organize an exhibition of Hartmann's works. After touring it himself, he composed the suite based on the pieces. It was originally just piano, but it has a wonderful orchestral arrangement too, most prominently done by Ravel."

"Are you going to actually play, Miss Granger?"

Yes, still cranky.

"Of course, sir. This first piece is 'The Hut of Baba Yaga.'" (2) Hermione began to play the harsh chords of the beginning of the piece. She loved to play the whole suite. Since it focused on different paintings, it had a different mood in each piece, but since they were a part of an overall composition, they had some similar chord progressions and connections. She was able to start at one emotion and land in another if she played them in a certain order, and that was what she was attempting to do now.

Hermione rolled her shoulders a bit as she played, letting herself relax into the music. She really cherished having a masterful instrument to play on. It might be worth it just for this.

She let one song flow into the next. (3) Let him imagine what he wanted to see. She wasn't going to say anymore if he thought she was being too chatty. See if he pictured the rich Jew and the poor Jew the song was written about.

She couldn't help but stop before the next piece. "This is the 'Great Gate of Kiev'," she said softly and smiled. "It's one of my favorites." (4)

The uplifting song always moved her, ever since she had first seen it performed live as a child. Hermione could remember sitting in the large seat, kneeling so that she was tall enough to look over the people in front of her. She often wondered if her parents had started taking her to the symphony just for the two hours of silence they got from their precocious daughter.

Smiling, she brought her thoughts back to the present. Professor Snape was watching her while nibbling on a sandwich. She blithely wondered if she got extra credit for getting him to eat. Surely there had to be something Minerva would grant her. An afterhours pass for the library perhaps…or a choice of rooms for the following year.

She closed her eyes, imagining wonderful things like book shelves, a companion for Crookshanks, a music hall, and childhood. Her hands played the loud and exultant conclusion to the song. The strong chords sent the feeling of triumph through her.

She never knew the kind of image she was giving to her professor, having played mostly in front of her parents or clinical professionals.

_She is passionate,_ he thought. Snape watched the emotions play on her face and wished he could see what she was picturing as she played the pieces that were so familiar to her. Shiny golden hair danced to the rhythm of the music as its mistress weaved over her instrument. Her eyes were focused and intent, then they closed in remembered bliss. Her whole being went into performing. For her, it was more of an aerobic activity than a leisurely motion of hands and feet.

He sucked in a breath as she turned that passion towards him. Eyes bright and cheeks rosy, she excitedly asked him, "I know you don't know much about music, sir, but did you know a piano can be frivolous? It's not all formal and respectable. I won't play much of it for you, I doubt you'd find it amusing, but this song is called 'Ballet of the Unhatched Chicks.' The first time I heard this I was just a little girl, and I could just picture huge eggs with full-grown chickens inside trying to peck their way out." Eager to begin, she flashed a grin and went back to her playing. (5)

When, in the name of Circe, was the last time someone had smiled at him? And dammit, why was he always so maudlin in Granger's presence? Snape wondered briefly if perhaps this was a bad idea, but he could not deny the fact that he was feeling much better. Something about the simple beauty of the music had a way of calming him.

She noticed that he was much more relaxed and inwardly crowed that her experiment had been a success. Hermione now had a better idea of what kinds of music to choose for him, knowing he responded similarly to herself. Professor Snape was fully stretched out in the chair with his head against the back rest, black hair loose against his shoulders, and he was breathing much easier and more deeply than he had been when he joined her. Hermione did a little internal happy dance. She loved it when she got things right.

Many people had unique methods of easing their tension, often derived from their parents during childhood. Some people benefited from a back rub, the scent of lavender oil, or clean laundry. Others liked Muggle cartoons, going for a walk, or going out for a drink. It seemed like the method their parents chose to handle the pressure or how they soothed their children was what made the biggest impact on the emotional transference to their children.

Professor Snape's father had handled the pressure by drinking himself into a stupor and beating his wife.

Snape's mother had handled the pressure by pressuring her son to do better, act better, be better, or by crying herself to sleep behind closed doors where she thought she could not be heard.

None of these were an option for him, so the pressure was locked inside him until the cap flew off like a shaken bottle of champagne, flying at whoever was close by. He knew this was not the best way to handle things, but he was at a loss to find a better method.

But listening to Miss Granger play was a like an emotional Restorative Potion.

"How do you do that?" Hermione's professor asked as her song finished.

"Well, I've been playing since I was four or five. My mother would have told you practice. Lots and lots and lots of practice."

"That is not what I mean. How do you remain chipper and unaffected by the events of the summer? How do you not break like so many others would have?"

Hermione looked at him pensively. He had gone from saying absolutely nothing to saying something so…unexpected. She felt compelled to answer. "I don't know honestly. The best answer I can give you is that I was taught that you can't give what you haven't received, and you are what you surround yourself with. I now know that isn't necessarily true. Harry grew up surrounded by prejudice and hate and elitism, but he is one of the most accepting people I know. But one's surroundings certainly help. I can't be happy if I surround myself with sadness, just like it's hard for me to be sad if I surround myself with joy. I am grieving for my parents, Professor, but I am doing it in the way I think they would want me to. By celebrating life and love and remembering to be the kind of woman they taught me to be. It's not easy, and I don't always succeed, but I try. And every time I try, it becomes easier not to fail. That's…probably more of an answer than you wanted. I'm sorry."

He was frowning at her in intense concentration, and she shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. Had she said something wrong? Had she completely negated any respect she may have been gaining in his eyes with her overly sentimental comments?

"Your music obviously guides your thoughts and your memories," Snape said gravely.

"Yes, it does."

He took a sip of tea while thinking about what she had said. "Do you have songs you play that remind you of people?"

"Yes, I do. There are many songs that remind me of home or my family. A few that bring to mind Harry or Ginny, or sometimes a new piece will bring to mind someone I'm not expecting." Hermione shrugged. "It just depends on the mood of the piece really."

He couldn't say what made him ask. "Do you have a song that reminds you of me?"

Shit. She had walked right into that one. She needed to learn to be on her toes when conversing with a Slytherin. But how could she possibly, in a million years, think that he, Professor Snape, the feared and misanthropic Potions master, would ask her questions like that?

Gulping, she answered in a slightly shaking voice, "Yes, sir. In fact, I do."

He raised the infamous eyebrow with what could only be disbelief or casual disinterest. She made no move to turn back to her piano or withdraw music. That was all she apparently had to say. Curious now, he told her, "I should like to hear it."

He wondered if she would play it, vaunted Gryffindor or not. Was it possible there were notes on a page that accurately described the levels of scorn and prejudice ascribed to him?

"Oh," she simply said. She nibbled the inside of her cheek in indecision. After a moment, she seemed to come to a conclusion. "Alright then."

Hermione had been berating others, and occasionally herself, for not being friendlier toward Severus Snape. Perhaps it was time she put that theory into practice and let him know exactly how she saw him. She didn't pull out any music this time, but just swung her leg around the bench to face the piano. He saw her breathe deeply before she began to play. (6)

No words could explain the shock he felt when she began, but the incredulous look on his face was a good start.

A simple, clear, and unwavering tune filled the air. It had a touch of longing, as though someone you loved would soon be home. It was unpretentious and strong, but never harsh. Gone were the ruthless chords and swift tempos from earlier in the evening. In fact, there weren't really any chords at all. Just notes of truth, ringing out from the instrument and the young woman in the center of the room.

This? This was what reminded her of him? Surely there had to be a mistake. There was a joke in here he was not getting. It was impossible that this work of beauty, this unapologetically quixotic musical prose made her think of him.

Professor Snape sat in his chair, mute, as he watched Hermione play. He had always known this girl was different. From the first day in his classroom, there had been something about her that had been a little unconventional. She had her own mind and didn't fit into most of the molds of magical children.

He hadn't realized just how different she was until she sat there, unabashedly telling him through her music what brought him to mind for her.

As it came to its conclusion, the song slowed into a soft and strong rendition of the main theme. At the close, Hermione hesitated at her piano before turning to him. His look of astonishment must have still been on his face because she quickly rushed to explain. "It's called 'Sound of Your Voice.' It's by a composer named Jim Brickman, whose music is not very difficult to play but definitely is some of my favorites. But I've always been a bit impressed by your voice, sir. It's definitely a defining characteristic of yours, which I'm sure you know. It's something that has always been a constant for me through everything that has happened. Normally angry, of course, but still present at every major event since I turned eleven. It's…it's calming, sir. And reassuring. Knowing that whatever happens, some things never change. And I know – we know – that you're here for us. We know you can't do much in the public view, but we know who our allies are, where our strength comes from, and where we would be if we didn't have you. I've always had respect for you, sir. The title is what first brought you to mind, of course. But the feelings of the song echo you as well. I hope you don't mind. It's just what I feel." Realizing this was quite possibly the most she had ever spoken to him in her life, Hermione quieted and looked to the floor. She reflected that it was a very good thing for her house that she had waited until after about a half hour of playing before she had made these statements. He hadn't interrupted her or ejected her from the room.

"You make me feel like things are recognizable again and as they should be, even with all the changes. In your classes and here, I can forget about my parents and Professor Dumbledore and focus on what I know to be true," she said in almost a whisper.

It was his turn to be uncomfortable. He was unaccustomed to words such as these and, therefore, had no idea how to respond to them. Snape could remember how he had felt when he had reacted to this girl with anger and then with scorn, and the reactions had not panned out in his favor, so now he opted for a new experiment. "That is not the…typical reaction to my person. But your sentiments are not…unwelcome," he told her, his voice deep as it worked over the foreign phrases.

"I'm glad to hear that, sir," she said. She felt as though she would fall off the bench when the relief coursed through her. "I'm certain I'm not the only one who recognizes your actions for what they are."

"I am equally as certain that you are," he responded disdainfully.

She smile reassuringly at him and pulled out a different piece of music. "I'll just close out with some Mozart, shall I? You know, this music used to be played on an older style of piano which-"

Suddenly, the piano in front of her morphed into a smaller one with a different shape. It had levers instead of pedals at her feet. Hermione hollered out loud, "I am not playing on a fortepiano! I don't even know what these things do!" and she flipped a few of the strange levers before the instrument became the piano she recognized. "Thank you," she told the room and began the difficult and fast-moving piece. (7) Releasing the tension in the room, she was grateful for the unemotional piece of music. "I actually only learned that one because it's in the adaptation of Jane Austen's 'Pride and Prejudice' with Colin Firth, an actor," she said with a blush.

"You speak to the castle?" he asked her in another of his apparently common random statements.

"Sometimes," she told him.

"Does it answer you?"

"Not usually. Curfew is soon, I should get back to perform my rounds. I hope you are feeling better now, sir, and that I wasn't too bold." She shrank her music and put it into her pocket while giving the piano a final pat. Walking over to the tray – now empty of sandwiches and a good portion of the biscuits – she helped herself to two biscuits.

He hadn't responded to her words and was looking at his hands, hair covering his cheeks. Laying her hand gently on his shoulder, she said softly, "Good night, sir."

He barely heard her slip out of the room.

**A/N:** Teaser for next week: _"I, Hermione Granger, hereby grant to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry…"_


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N **Quickly posting a chapter before my internet gives out. In Manhattan on vacation, having a great time.

Bonus chapter next week, for a wonderful reason.

Had some awesome reviews so far. Wondering if they will pick up if you get a naughty crumb. ;)

**Playlist:** Sorry I forgot to add this on there! Net sucks! And the first song I didn't have the piano version of here, sorry!

http://www. youtube. com/watch?v=S_jEtZvojBk&feature=PlayList&p=2B15AF434788488B&playnext_from=PL&index=0&playnext=1

**Chapter Eight**

Hermione finished her rounds before finally climbing back up to her dorm for the evening. It was now quite late, but she had a lot on her mind. Grabbing her pilfered quilt, she wrapped herself in it and flopped backwards onto her bed.

The other girls were asleep. This year brought a sense of responsibility to each of them, and they were very careful to get their rest for their increasingly difficult classes.

The boys were a slightly different story, but even they had reined in the out-of-dorm philandering.

Except for Ron apparently.

One month. It had been almost exactly one month since they had ended their relationship. Less than two since the murder of her family. And already, not only had he moved on to someone else, but he was flaunting it out in the hallways. The hallways! Who patrolled those hallways? She did. Completely ridiculous. How thoughtless could someone be?

Okay, this was Ron, so pretty thoughtless, but still. Was he in such desperate physical need that he couldn't help but attack Lorrell's face in the corridors? Had Hermione really been that unsatisfactory?

Of course, she hadn't liked doing anything sexual with Ron, so she wasn't exactly forthcoming. It couldn't have possibly been fireworks for him either.

Why did she even care?

She was happy to be finished with him. Thinking about what these last few weeks would have been like if she had had to balance him too gave her a headache. She was certainly enjoying being able to come and go as she pleased. She could entertain Professor Snape, set up her times with the other professors, and study as much as she wished without hearing, "Hermiiiione, but I really neeeed you."

Bollocks, he needed her. He had obviously fixed that problem in a quick hurry.

Perhaps she was just upset on principle. It was a pretty discourteous thing to do, making out in front of the Head Girl's bathroom like that. But, if nothing else, it reminded her why she was _not_ with him anymore.

Or perhaps the problem wasn't that Hermione wasn't with Ron, or even that he was with Lorrell. Was it possible she just missed having someone there? Someone she could come and cuddle up to when the days and the memories got to be too much? Someone to take a walk with her? Someone with whom she could chat about her latest book? Okay, that had never been Ron. But it would be nice to have, wouldn't it?

Maybe she needed to start keeping her eyes open for other men around her. Was it possible there was an intelligent and mature man who enjoyed reading and quiet evenings, and she had just overlooked him?

No. It wasn't possible. She would probably just have to wait until she…well, she wasn't going to university now, was she? Perhaps when she became a part of the staff she would attend lectures or get out to the village more and meet someone.

Suddenly, Hermione let out, "Oomph!"

"Hello, Crookshanks." She petted the rusty-colored cat as he kneaded the blanket and lay on her chest with a loud purr. Stroking his head, she told him, "You're my favorite ginger male now, I think, Crookshanks."

Closing her eyes to the happy cat, she finally fell asleep.

In the morning, she felt marginally better but knew that her appearance left something to be desired.

She had no idea that Professor Snape had woken up that morning in exactly the same frame of mind. He had lain in bed long after returning to his quarters, going over in his mind again and again the events of the evening and the past few months.

There must be something she wanted from him. That was the only conclusion that made sense in his mind. The problem was, he couldn't fathom what it was she might want.

It bothered him to the point that he blurted out in the middle of her Potions class, "What is the meaning of this?" after she had smiled at him for passing her the beetle eyes.

"They work as a coagulant. The gelatinous fluid in the center of the eyes breaks down to-"

Hermione was waved off by an irate Potions professor and never got to complete her miniature lecture.

Harry raised an inquisitive eyebrow at her, and she just shrugged her shoulders before going back to her potion.

After class, she received another request to visit the Headmistress's office when she had the time. Using her free period in the afternoon, Hermione headed up to see what Minerva needed.

The Headmistress waved her in with a smile and set about making tea for them both.

Selecting a Darjeeling for herself to help resist the cooling of the castle, Hermione inquired as to the purpose of the meeting.

"Well, my dear, I have been in contact with your solicitors. Did you hear they sold your parents' practice?

Hermione was shocked. "No, I hadn't! I heard they were going to offer it, but I doubted they would get anything promising so quickly."

"Well, they have. As well as the house. Now that your parents' assets have been taken care of and their life insurance processed, you can know the full amount of your inheritance and decide what you would like to do about it."

Hermione fidgeted in her chair. Her parents had always had enough. They had been an upper middle class family, but she had never considered herself or her parents wealthy. Steeling herself, she reached out a hand for the proffered parchment.

Hermione almost fainted at the number of zeros.

"That's…that's…" She couldn't speak. Words were removed from her brain, apparently overtaken by Galleons.

"Yes, I know. Nothing has to be done now. It will reside in your vault until you decide if and when you'd like to use it. But I thought it best for you to know where you stood. Perhaps now that you're aware of your financial security, you might reconsider signing on so hastily to teach here at Hogwarts?" Minerva tried to hide her nervousness by pouring another cup of tea.

"No! Of course not! It wouldn't matter how much I had. I know I won't want to just sit at home, Minerva, and I was never doing it for the money. Well, I mean, it was nice to know I could provide for myself, but this has always been my dream. I would happily volunteer here without pay if it meant I got to teach."

The Headmistress visibly relaxed and was pleased at the conviction in the woman she had chosen to replace her. "Excellent, Hermione. I am more than pleased to have you, but I didn't want you to feel trapped."

"Well, I don't, I promise. In fact, do you have some extra parchment?" Hermione asked.

Foraging through her desk, Minerva finally produced a sheet of parchment and a quill for Hermione to use. Writing quickly and confidently, she finished her task and gave both items back to her old Head of House.

Minerva glanced down warily at the parchment before her, mouth falling open in shock as she read, _"I, Hermione Granger, hereby grant to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry…"_

"But, Hermione! This is your money!"

"And now, that much is your money. I want to sponsor the Muggle-born and the half-blood - or even the pure-blood, really - students who want to attend Hogwarts but struggle to afford it. I know in the past there have been students who have been bullied because they were…less than wealthy." Hermione thought back to the teasing Ron had endured, along with some of her other classmates. "I know it was hard enough for me to make friends my first year. I can't imagine doing it with hand-me-downs like Ron did. So please take it and use it toward whatever students you think could benefit from it. And if there aren't any that year, I don't know, add books to the library," Hermione said. "Honestly, I'll never use all of it, and, wisely invested, my great-grandchildren will be set as well."

Minerva was moved. One so young, who had been through so much and was part of their world only because of a genetic anomaly, yet still one who would help make it better for the students who came after her.

"I'm honored, Hermione, to be able to put this to good use. There are students who have not attended because they could not afford tuition, and the families with money don't deem schooling a worthy cause for their _charity_," she said with a touch of bitterness in her voice. "I'm so very proud of you. You will make a lasting impression on this school, and not just from your donation. Perhaps I'll rename a whole section of the library for you."

Hermione laughed. "Only if it is a section that is open at all hours for students who just have to get that last book or need a quiet place to hide from their classmates."

"The idea has merit, Hermione," said Minerva with a chuckle. "Perhaps I'll add that to your list of things to do in your first year."

"I would be delighted," she answered, then made her goodbyes and left the office.

Hermione spent the evening in the common room working on some notes for Muggle Studies. She was working with Professor Burbage in the morning. She was hoping the teacher would shed some light on whether there were any planned updates to the curriculum. She didn't think the Ministry realized how quickly Muggle culture and advancements changed compared to Wizarding society.

Hermione attempted to ignore Ron as much as possible and ended up ignoring Lorrell as well. Where there was one, there was the other, and she just wasn't ready to speak to him yet. Her cheeks grew red in embarrassment whenever she thought of the awful incident.

Ginny had heard about what had happened and made it clear on whose side of the fence she sat. Hermione had always considered her a friend but hadn't truly appreciated her until Hermione had broken up with Ginny's brother. That was terribly strange to Hermione, but she figured life was strange sometimes.

She hadn't thought too much on her first meeting with Professor Snape. He was still much the same as he had always been in class, mostly he just ignored her. She had no idea if she was helping at all. He had seemed more subdued after the first night with her, and she hoped she had had a hand in it.

It was still awkward, though. Hermione hadn't spoken to him much over the years. Snape hadn't really spoken to anyone, especially students. He was extremely private, for obvious reasons. She was pondering how she was going to get through having him in the room. He just sat there, leaving her the burden of being both hostess and entertainment. She didn't have to talk to him, strictly speaking, but silence would not help address the proverbial elephant in the room.

While Hermione's thoughts were focused on Ron and himself, Snape's thoughts were also focused on her. If he had thought he was confused before, he was positively perplexed now.

She didn't care that he worked for the Dark Lord. In fact, she seemed to respect him because of it.

Respect him.

She respected him.

No matter how many times he repeated it, it still didn't fit. He felt like the girl was a square peg, and his mind only had round holes.

And Hermione had no qualms about his presence. He admitted that it was odd being alone with her. Snape could not remember any conversations with her before the bookstore, and now it appeared that they would be spending time together, not to mention that they would be colleagues the following year. How strange it would be to have her on staff. To call her Professor Granger. Of course, she was much like a little professor now.

Perhaps they should form an acquaintance, strictly to lessen the unease between them of course. He didn't want to be _friends_ with her, but there was no need for further tension.

What had happened to him that he was forming approbation for a student? For a female Gryffindor student? His eyes narrowed. He was sensing a pattern here, and it wasn't one he cared for.

He wondered if this was all Dumbledore's idea.

Well, the man was bound to have a few acceptable ones every so often. He would see how this one panned out.

And if, until then, he was forced to spend time with the pretty young woman, well then, more's the pity.

~~HGSS~~

Hermione spent her day wondering why she had taken this course. Did she really need to continue it through her last year? She knew that she might as well sit the Muggle Studies N.E.W.T. since she had done all the coursework, but the fact remained that this class was a bore.

Today, they were learning about kitchen gadgets. The can opener on display was an old wall-mounted model. Earlier, they had been shown a washboard and an ancient microwave. This class really needed an update.

Unlike the other teachers who spoke directly to Hermione in class, Professor Burbage mostly ignored her until after the lessons were over and then proceeded to quiz her on everything the professor had taught. This didn't really help Hermione gain any insight into her teaching practices, and the majority of the information she would have been able to spit back before coming to class anyway.

Afterward, Hermione sat in the plump little woman's office.

"Are there going to be any changes to the current curriculum?"

"I'm afraid not, dear," said Professor Burbage. "I simply don't have the time to research all the necessary upgrades. And you know as well as I that the Ministry would be unlikely to approve such a thing. The current environment is not at all Muggle-friendly."

"Who cares if it's Muggle-friendly? We're not going to properly teach a subject because the subject is not in vogue at the moment? That is completely preposterous. Perhaps the reason the 'environment' is the way it is right now is because no one thought to accurately portray Muggles as _people_. The only difference between us and them is that we can do magic. We can do spells, but they can invent. They are much more creative and advanced and…"

"Are you sure you aren't trying to take my job instead of Minerva's, Hermione? You forget, I am on your side, but I am only one person."

"'I am only one, but still I am one. I cannot do everything, but still I can do something; and because I cannot do everything, I will not refuse to do the something that I can do,'" Hermione shot back. "Do you think I plan on completely reforming our treatment of house elves? Of course not. But I can plant the seed in the mind of others. Oh, and you know who said that quote? Helen Keller. A blind and deaf _Muggle_. Now if you'll excuse me, I have an essay to write." With that, she left the office, shutting the door with perhaps a touch more force than necessary.

Hermione stormed back to the tower, completely ignoring the students and staff in the hallway. So incensed was she that she sailed right past Professor Snape without so much as a glance in his direction. Noting her stiff posture and clenched fists, he had a hunch he would be feeling his Galleon warm this evening.

Sure enough, soon after dinner was over, he received a message.

_Room of Requirement 7:30pm_

He had heard a few muttered grumblings from the normally genteel Professor Burbage about why Hermione was so upset, but he was interested in hearing her side of things. Plus, he was looking forward to the night of sleep these evenings always brought. Setting aside his grading, he made his way through the castle.

As he entered the room, Snape could see Hermione already playing in the middle of the room. (1) The room was as he had left it, except that the plate that had almost been empty when he had left last night was now refilled to overflowing on the table near his chair. He also noticed a few little cream puffs and chocolates on a plate near the piano that must have been Dobby's attempt to appease the friend of Harry Potter.

He slipped into his seat and watched her play, an activity that was quickly becoming one of his favorites. She was so intense, so focused when she performed. It was truly breathtaking to view, and he felt a bit privileged to have the experience so often.

And perhaps because it was something denied to Potter.

She was sitting at the piano now with no music out. Just her own memory to guide her through the songs she wanted to play. Stopping in what he suspected was the middle of a song, she turned to him and asked, "Can you believe that she isn't going to do anything? Like the majority of the people in the world are just a load of washing that will wait until you have more free time? Honestly!"

Underneath his black hair, he smirked, just a little. "I heard what you told Professor Burbage in class today. Something about a deaf Muggle?"

"Oh. I quoted Helen Keller to her. 'I am only one, but still I am one. I cannot do everything, but still I can do something; and because I cannot do everything I will not refuse to do the something that I can do.' I was taught that if there is something you can do, why not do it? My mother used to always tell me, 'When in doubt, Hermione, do the positive.' She was the person who would tip a little extra to the waitress who was having a hard day or bake a tart for a sick neighbor. She would be the first to come to someone's defense or simply take time out to tell someone they matter. They were little things in the long run, nothing that took much time, but it's those actions that shape who we are. It's like the story of the man on the beach who was tossing starfish that had washed ashore back into the ocean. A villager came up to him and asked him, 'Why are you doing this? There are thousands of fish! You can't make a difference.' And the man tossed back another starfish and told the man, 'Made a difference to that one.'"

Hermione sighed, her voice taking on a pensive tone. "My mum once had a coworker call her, telling her that he was going to kill himself. She talked him out of it and brought him to a doctor. Do you want to know why he called her? Because she told him she liked his tie that day. It was so silly, but he hadn't been complimented like that before, and it stuck with him. And she was a Muggle. She was the kind of person that Professor Burbage has decided is not worth the time or effort to teach about correctly! Do you realize she is teaching about the telegraph? Seriously. Muggles carry around little mobile phones, and wizards are still learning about the telegraph. Now please tell me, who is backward here?"

By now, Hermione was fuming, having worked herself back up into the indignation she had felt this morning.

Professor Snape watched the angry little witch, whose wanton curls practically crackled with anger. "Do you often quote people?" he asked her.

"I beg your pardon?" she queried.

"Do you often quote people?" he asked again.

"I don't see how that relates to this conversation at all!" she told him angrily.

He dryly answered, "I was not aware this was a conversation."

"Well, I had hoped it would be!"

"Then, to answer your non-question, yes, I agree that the class is in dire need of an overhaul. I suspect that once our headmistress is less preoccupied, it will be the first one to be affected. Perhaps if it is so important to you, you will offer your assistance."

"I just might!"

"Now, answer me. Do you often quote people?"

She faced him while sitting on her bench now and thought over his question. "Yes, I suppose I do. Ron and Harry hate it. They tell me they get enough of their professors during the day, and they don't need them parroted back to them constantly. I don't _only_ remember school though."

"No?"

"No, indeed. I can quote any number of things, now that I think about it. After Ron and I broke up, my mantra was 'The best thing about loving and being hurt is that you get to know what true love really is. For as gold is tested in fire and so will love be perfected in pain.'"

"And why that particular nonsense?"

"It isn't nonsense," she quickly told him. "If you've never loved before, how do you know what love is? How do you know what could make you happy, if you've never been happy or unhappy? I suppose it's like trying anything new. You probably like wine, but if you haven't had it, you can't be certain. So you go wine tasting. You try the pinot noir, you try the merlot, and you try the chardonnay. They are all pleasant, some you like more than others. But then you try the cabernet sauvignon, and you think 'ah, yes, this is what I have been waiting for.' Would you have recognized it if you hadn't tried anything first? I loved Ron. I still love Ron. But I'm not _in love_ with Ron. And now that I have dated him, there are things I know I would like in a future relationship. I love being able to laugh with him. I like that he can be so clever. But I know what I do not want in a relationship. I don't like being second to a sport. I want someone who is mature, capable of independent thought, and who doesn't want to be with me because I don't have the figure of someone who goes by the name of Mollywobbles."

At this, Professor Snape raised a _very_ inquisitive brow.

"But as much as it hurt, I wouldn't change it. 'A mighty pain to love it is, and 'tis a pain that pain to miss; but of all the pains, the greatest pain is to love, but love in vain.' Why am I telling you all this?" she asked, exasperated with herself as a little color rose to her cheeks.

"I honestly have no idea. But I prefer, 'Like the measles, love is most dangerous when it comes late in life.'"

She gasped, "It's not like the measles! 'Love cures people – both the ones who give it and the ones who receive it.'"

"Touché, Miss Granger. Now, are you planning on playing this evening?"

She sat up straight on her bench. "Oh! I almost forgot. I am going to start introducing themes to our evenings."

It was his turn to ask, "I beg your pardon?"

"Just in the music I play. It helps me to narrow down what I pick, or I could spend all night looking through my books. I know that you don't know much about music, so I figured it could be kind of educational as well, for you to become at least slightly familiar with different types of music."

"And heaven forbid this not be a learning experience."

She glared at him.

"By all means, Miss Granger. Introduce your _theme nights_," he said with a bit of a sneer.

"I will, thank you, and tonight will be music from Mother Russia. Feel free to bring a book or your grading with you, if you'd like, sir. Maybe then you won't have to worry about me accidentally starting a conversation with you again." A slightly annoyed Hermione turned smartly back to her piano and launched into the fastest song he had heard her play, curiously with no music. (2)

He had only seen her play once before without it, and he inquired about its absence.

"With a piece like 'Flight of the Bumblebee,' either you know it, or you don't. It took a lot of practice before I could play it correctly. Some musicians just try and play it as fast as humanly possible, but I prefer when you can hear the elegance and not just the rapidity of the bumblebee. Do you remember what I told you about Modest Mussorgsky?"

"I do. Will there be a test?" he asked in a sarcastic tone while he poured himself another cup of tea.

She laughed at him. "Of course not. But _Pictures at an Exhibition _is a suite of ten songs, and this next piece is one of the three or four I haven't played for you yet. I like it though. It's kind of mischievous. It's called 'Gnomus' or 'The Gnome.'" And with that, she began to play once again. (3)

"Is that the same tune played in the other…tunes?" he asked hesitantly. It was unlike him to have to ask questions about anything, especially of a student, and he was aware of how ridiculous he sounded.

She positively beamed at him, and he flinched away. "Very good, sir! Yes, it has a repeat chord structure in the melody line. I'm glad to see you're learning."

She went on to babble something about Tchaikovsky, but he was no longer paying attention.

It was her smile. Her happy, unaffected smile. She just…smiled at him, like he was worth smiling at. Like she liked being here. Like she liked him, or like he made her happy.

What utter rubbish. He sounded like an imbecile, even in his mind. He was becoming weak being here with her. Perhaps he should scale down how often he came.

Severus felt his heart tighten in his chest. He didn't want to scale back. He liked things just how they were, thank you.

Somewhere far off, he knew she was still speaking. He could see her there, straddling the bench. Her hair a bouncy halo as her hands wildly gesticulated whatever she was talking about.

And he found her beautiful.

No. No! This was not happening. This could not happen. He had played this game once before and found he did not care for it.

"_But what if you had pinot noir before,"_ his traitorous heart asked him, "_and she is cabernet sauvignon?"_

Regardless of her flavor, she was a student. A mere girl – woman – GIRL, and he had no time to ponder such things as relationships. He was merely using her for what she was. A convenient way to find some shut eye.

Hermione sat before him with a puzzled look on her face. Professor Snape hadn't answered her. In fact, she had stopped speaking some moments before, and he had yet to notice. He sat staring just over her right shoulder with squinting eyes and his hands holding fists of his pants.

She took a moment to watch him. He really was quite austere. He had lovely eyes though, a deep chocolate brown now that she could see them in the firelight. And he had this adorable little spot right on the middle of his nose… Hermione shook her head. Did she just think "Professor Snape" and "adorable" in the same thought? And what was she doing thinking about eyes when he could quite possibly be having a fit of some sort?

She slid off the bench straight onto her knees before him. She tentatively reached her hand out and grabbed his fist. "Sir? Are you alright?"

He came to with a jerk and immediately ripped his hand back with a hiss. "I am fine, thank you. Occasionally, I have things I need to ponder besides _music_. Now, continue."

Hermione had already returned to her bench by the time he finished speaking and wordlessly began the Tchaikovsky piece she had been explaining to him. (4)

If he didn't care about the Schumann influence on the suite as a whole or the fact that it had been commissioned, then fine. She wasn't going to waste her breath repeating herself. Insufferable man.

Professor Snape took a deep breath, feeling the constriction of his frock coat against the tightened muscles of his chest. He felt…displeased…for snapping at her. He tried to reason it way, thinking that it was her fault. She was the one who had distracted him, thus the blame was hers, even if she hadn't distracted him intentionally.

He was confused.

She was staring straight at her piano, nostrils flaring a little, and where she had once showed her ease in her posture, she now had a formally straight spine.

Swallowing a bit of his pride, he asked after she finished, "And why did you choose that selection?"

"As I told you earlier," she said with a bit of bite, "It's 'October.'"

"And?"

She huffed, and he could see her nostrils flare once more in an attempt to keep her, from what he had heard, formidable temper. "Tchaikovsky is a Russian composer, sir, and this piece is called 'October.' The current month is October. It fits."

"I understand. I…apologize for not being attentive earlier," his gravelly voice spoke.

She narrowed her vision on him but could discern no falsehoods in his face. Not like she would even know if he was lying. Preferring to give him the benefit of the doubt, Hermione relaxed a little and told him not to worry about it. Everyone had their moments.

"Perhaps, one day, you will not forgive so easily."

"I grew up with Harry and Ron," she said. "I highly doubt it. We've spent months not speaking for one stupid reason or another. But, prats though they can be, I still love them. Friends can be like family, and family is more than your bloodline." (5)

If only pure-bloods could think that too, he decided. There was so much that the Wizarding world could learn from Muggles, if given a fair chance.

"And now what are you playing?" he asked.

"Rachmaninov. I love him. Some of his compositions are just stunning. This one is my favorite. It's called 'Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini.' Paganini is another composer. Anyway, this is Opus Forty Three, and though it can be played on a solo piano, I much prefer the orchestral version. Unfortunately, I forgot my orchestra," she said with a smile at her latest attempt to break the ice.

"So you have, Miss Granger," he said as he laid his head against the chair to listen to the rest of the song. It really was quite pleasant, and he found himself wishing that a full symphony was present.

After the music concluded, she grabbed another biscuit to go and gave the piano a rub. "I really am becoming quite attached to this thing. It's nice not having to transfigure a piano whenever I want to play. It's not as nice as the Steinway I grew up with, but it's vastly superior to anything I could do on my own. I feel like I'm becoming enthralled with something so simple."

"I know precisely how you feel."

Hermione gave him a smile before heading up to her dorm, physically exhausted and emotionally spent. She was asleep shortly after her head hit the pillow.

~~HGSS~~

Later on that evening, her professor readied himself for bed.

He lay in the darkness, one hand trailing down his chest as his breathing grew faster. With the other hand matching the tempo of his breathing, all he could see was wild chestnut hair and a pair of fine eyes.

**Next chapter's teaser:** "No one knows but me…and now you."


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: **So, I had really hoped to get this up yesterday and it didn't happen, but it didn't for the most fabulous reason.

I met Alan Rickman!!

I had originally intended to post a bonus chapter because I was going to be able to see our illustrious Potions Master in an artist talk in Manhattan, but we were actually able to meet and chat with him. He was as gracious, patient, sexy, charming, witty, sexy, and awe inspiring as I hoped he would be. I got to be a smart ass with him, and he was a smart ass back, and he signed three of my DVDs. I had brought two others for two of the cast to sign, and he took all three and began to autograph them. I told him, "Oh! No, no, I just want you to sign this one, that's okay." And he gives me the eyebrow, THE eyebrow, and says "Well, I'm in all of them," with this smirk and signs them all anyway. I also met Anne Chancellor from Pride and Prejudice, Hitchhiker's Guide and What a Girl Wants, and Owen Teale from The Search for John Gissing.

I can die happy. Enjoy the chapter.

Remember to remove spaces,. in the first link, there are FIVE:

http:// i932. photobucket. com/albums/ad166/Alanyc2010/Heathers%20Pix /DSCF1335. jpg

**Playlist: **http://www. youtube. com/watch?v=VuZP948WETc&feature=PlayList&p=D3E2A1EEA8A0DED4&playnext_from=PL&index=0&playnext=1

**Chapter Nine**

Morning seemed to come all too early for the sleepy Gryffindor. Being mid-October, the castle was starting to feel the shorter days, colder nights, and the onset of Halloween. Hermione wondered about Nearly Headless Nick's Deathday party. Thinking back to the one she had attended, she shuddered. Maybe Ron would take Lorrell this year.

Hermione brushed her hair, threw on clothes, and headed out of the dorm for breakfast.

If there was something that could get her out of bed willingly, it was eggs and bacon.

The blessing of a high metabolism hid the fact that she appreciated food very much. She didn't eat half of the table like her ex-boyfriend, but she still had a healthy appetite. As she walked into the noisy hall, she inhaled the wonderful aroma of coffee, meats, and toast and took a seat by her friends.

She noticed Ron had been sitting with his arm around Lorrell until she sat down. He then quickly took his arm back and sat up straight.

Hermione couldn't help but laugh inside. She wasn't his mother, and she wasn't Headmistress McGonagall, so why did he care if she saw them? She had already seen much more from these two. Shaking her head, she went back to her meal.

It wasn't until Harry slipped her the last sausage that she began to wonder what was going on. Knowing she would find out eventually, she bit into the offering.

After sitting at the table for a few moments in awkward silence, it was apparent that whatever needed to be said wasn't going to be said now. She had a free period before her first class, so she started to make her way back to the tower.

Rounding the first corner away from the Great Hall, she heard a familiar voice behind her.

"'Mione! Wait!"

She paused and turned to see Ron running to catch up with her. When she had left the table, she hadn't seen Lorrell nod her head in Hermione's direction and look pointedly at Ron before Ron scrambled to put his stuff into his bag and took off after her.

"What do you need, Ron? More help on the Charms essay?"

"No, I'm done with that, actually. I was wondering if I could talk with you a second before class."

She walked into the nearest empty classroom, and Ron followed behind. Hermione sat on the edge of the closest desk and queried, "Well? What's up?"

"Well, it's like this. I know we haven't been broken up very long, but we weren't together for long either, and I know there isn't another bloke you fancy, but I'm really starting to like Lorrell. I mean, she knows the Krum Krumble, Hermione. She's totally down with harassing Peeves, and, I mean, she's just gorgeous you know? She has that figure like-"

"Like your mum. Yes, you told me. What do I have to do with it?" she asked, starting to become cross.

He shifted on his feet a bit and looked everywhere around the room but at Hermione. She was becoming impatient when he finally said, "I want to date her, and I don't want to be shy about it, but I won't do it if it means you won't be my friend anymore."

"Oh, Ron." If her voice was a little husky, he didn't notice as she slid down to give him a hug. "You've done worse things than date Lorrell. You dated Lavender and threw yourself at a Veela. If she makes you happy, then I'm happy."

"So you really don't mind?"

"No, I don't. Just…don't snog in front of my bathroom anymore, okay? That makes things really uncomfortable between Professor Snape and me."

Ron looked at her, slightly astonished. "What do you mean, you and Professor Snape?"

Wanting to get a rise out of him, she cheekily responded, "Well, I never said there wasn't a bloke I was interested in, did I?"

"Merlin, Hermione. You know how to make a man lose his appetite."

She laughed at him. "You just ate! Now get going before you're late to class."

He paused at the doorway. "You're a brilliant ex-girlfriend, Hermione."

"Thanks, Ron." _I think._

After he left the room, she sat in the seat in front of the desk she had sat on, feeling deflated. So, Ron and Lorrell. She did want him to be happy. And she thought they would be good together. Lorrell was carefree and unaffected like Lavender, just not quite as daft. Ron had felt threatened by Hermione's intelligence, and she thought that Mr. Goldilocks may finally have found the girl who was "just right."

She finally finished her trek up to her room. She grabbed a Muggle novel, Tuesdays with Morrie, – contrary to popular belief, she didn't just read textbooks, and she liked fiction just fine as well – and sat on her bed to read a bit before class. All alone, she felt like some Gryffindor Princess locked away in a tower.

Hermione knew it was rather early in the day, but it had been four or five days since she had last gone to the Room of Requirement. She wondered if Professor Snape had plans for the evening, or if he would like to meet her after dinner. With a slight hesitation, she grabbed her Galleon.

~~HGSS~~

Professor Snape was sitting behind his desk when he felt the warm circle near his thigh. Fishing through his trouser pocket, he found the Galleon and read the message.

_RoR 6pm?_

Well, this was the first time she had posed it in the form of a question. She must not be in dire need of release then…rather, she hadn't suffered any emotional trauma today. Yes, that was better.

So if she was not in need, and he wasn't either, why was she inviting him? Strange. Invitations weren't circling at his door and never appeared unless his skills were requested. Of course, most of them were zapped with his wand shortly after opening. Curious, possibly more curious than was appropriate, he responded.

_Bring sandwiches._

~~HGSS~~

Hermione felt her circle warm soon after sending her message. Knowing he was currently teaching Potions, she snickered slightly. _It's like we're passing notes in class._ She read the message and laughed a little harder.

Yes, yes, she would make sure he had his bloody sandwiches.

Harry met her in the hallway on her way to class.

"Ron told me he talked to you about Lorrell," he stated.

She nodded. "Yes, he did, and as I told him, I'm perfectly fine with it."

"That's what he said too. But I just wanted to, you know, check."

Hermione shifted her satchel over her other shoulder and told him, "Well, he was right. I promise we are not about to have some serious falling out because Ron and I didn't work out. Because that was just what it was, Harry. It wasn't his fault, and it wasn't my fault. We just don't care for each other in that way, and I'm sorry we won't be a big happy family when you marry Ginny and have four red-haired, green-eyed babies-"

"Hey!"

"-but I still love you both, and I just want him to be happy."

They walked to the door of the Charms classroom, and Harry paused before going in. Looking a bit nervous, he ventured, "Ron also said you fancy Professor Snape."

"Yes, well, I guess you can't believe everything he says, can you?" she replied and breezed past him, heading to their table.

"Guess not," he mumbled and went to join her.

~~HGSS~~

After her classes, Hermione ushered Ron and Harry up to the tower. Taking their usual seats by the fire, she cast a Muffliato and squared her shoulders before looking at the boys.

"There is something I want to discuss with you both."

"You're secretly McGonagall sent back in time, and that's why you're such a nag."

"Ha ha, Ron. Very funny. No, I'm not, but I wanted to talk to you about something you said earlier."

Ron and Harry both looked at each other, thinking she had changed her mind and didn't want him dating Lorrell. This would be very bad, since he had already talked to Lorrell, and she was currently telling, well, everyone.

"It's about what you said about Professor Snape and me."

"Merlin's titties, Hermione! If you tell us you're secretly in a relationship with him, I swear I'll-"

"Ron! No, I am _not_ in a relationship with him. I doubt he likes me in _any_ fashion, let alone sees me in _that_ way. Do you seriously think I would go from being in a relationship with you to somehow wooing Professor Snape in six weeks' time? Honestly, Ronald. I am not a Siren."

Ron mumbled a quiet, "Sorry, Hermione," at his friend's outburst.

Hermione huffed and then continued. "But what I did want to tell you is that lately, I've been going to play piano, and when I go, I've been playing for the professor. The Headmistress asked if I would because it helps him relax and sleep."

"Shut up, Hermione."

"I'm serious, Harry! That's what I wanted to tell you."

Ron goggled at her. "Blimey. But, that's just weird."

"Trust me, I know. It's been very strange. But he heard me play a few times before school, in the bookstore and at Grimmauld Place, and he somehow found me a few times in the castle after term resumed. I'm assuming either he or Professor McGonagall put two and two together and found that he was well rested after those evenings, and she asked if, whenever I go, I contact him. And so I have. It's been kind of pleasant really."

"You've never even let us join you before, Hermione," Harry whinged, dangerously close to the pout with which she was too familiar.

"I know, Harry. I'm sorry. But you have no need, and no appreciation for classical music. And don't argue with me, we all know you two would just be a distraction."

Ron became more agitated and finally asked, "What do you two _do_?"

"Well, I play a few songs, and then I stand on my piano and give him a striptease before he takes me, right there on the keys."

Both boys gaped at her, shocked with horror at the image.

"What you do think we do? I use my enchanted Galleon to contact him if I'm going to be playing. I bring some music, and he sits in the chair and listens. Sometimes we talk a little, sometimes we only exchange pleasantries. Dobby has loved bringing tea to him and 'The friend of Harry Potter.' Last time we met, I told him that he was welcome to bring his grading, and I am going to start putting a theme to the music I play each night."

"You are mental," Ron told her. "Positively mental. First, I can't imagine anyone _telling_ Snape anything. Second, you told him you were going to make _theme nights_, and he didn't hex you into the floor? Are you going to press your luck, and try and get him to wear a lei and drink a Pina Colada too?"

"Of course not, Ron!" She was getting extremely frustrated with her obstinate friends. Perhaps Professor Snape was right, and they really were dunderheads. "As I told him, because I think he had the same concerns, it simply affects the music I play. You guys have seen me pick out a book. How long do you think it takes me to choose about forty-five minutes of music? And to play for Professor Snape, no less! I was terrified the first time I went down there, and this just makes it easier on me."

"I'm sure you would have said something, Hermione, but I've just got to ask," Harry said. "He hasn't been...improper, has he? You know I respect him! But, you're my friend, and I've just got to ask."

Releasing her anger in a breath between her teeth, she was able to answer him civilly. "No, Harry. He hasn't. He's been a perfect…well, not gentleman, since he hasn't displayed manners really, but he has been amiable at least. I appreciate your concern, but it is unfounded. In fact, I think he's started to warm up to me a little. He's been talking a bit more, and he didn't curse me when I asked him to put you down."

Harry thought about that before asking her, "Is that why he was calmer the next day? You really didn't do rounds that night, did you? You summoned him?"

"Well, I did do rounds. It's just not all I did. And now, if you boys will excuse me, I told him I would meet him at six."

"Merlin, Hermione. You make it sound like a date," said Ron with a bit of disgust.

"Yes, that's me," she replied sarcastically. "Excuse me while I go to my hot date with Professor Snape."

She was so intent on getting the boys to come around to her way of thinking that Hermione did not hear Ginny and Lorrell coming through the portrait hole. She had already taken down her Muffliato before she spoke, so the two girls clearly heard her last comment.

"You know, I don't know y'all very well, but I'm not even going to ask," said Lorrell. "I'll be upstairs. See you later, Ron-Ron."

Hermione let out a "tsk" as Harry sighed and said, "It starts."

Having sorted her music the night before, Hermione was ready to leave the dorm in moments. In fact, she was tempted to take a free period or lazy Sunday afternoon and pull out all her books and some manila folders and arrange several themes for convenience. Maybe she could develop an Arithmatic sequence to estimate how many meetings they would have over the year. She would talk to Professor Vector.

She arrived at the wall and was surprised at how easily the door appeared. Hermione walked in to find Professor Snape already there with a table in front of him, clearly working on correcting essays.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Professor. Am I late?"

He finished the line he was writing and looked up at her. "No, Miss Granger, you aren't. I was early." He paused, but she continued to look at him, so he added, "I simply preferred to begin grading in a place where I would not have to move everything again." Snape turned his head back to the paper in front of him, leaning so closely to the parchment his nose almost touched.

"Economical, sir," she said as she pulled out a few sheets of music. "Oh! I almost forgot! Dobby!"

With a prompt bang, Dobby appeared. "Yes, Miss?"

"More of the same, if you please," she told him.

Nodding with his eyes huge, he squeaked out, "Right away, Miss!" and was gone again.

"He is certainly quite taken with you," Hermione heard a sarcastic voice say.

"He is quite taken with Harry," she said, "and, by proxy, Ron and I. He will never forget how he got away from Mister Malfoy. Or that Harry has been kind to him."

"I'm sure he won't," Snape responded without looking up from the paper.

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"And what is on tonight's playlist? Am I being graced with another theme?"

"Of course. Tonight, I wanted to focus on modern piano, which really includes anything from the late nineteenth century to the present, very much like wizarding society."

He glared at her.

Nonplussed, she continued. "Tonight, I have music from Sibelius, who goes the furthest, back to 1899. Then Whitacre, whom I adore, Glass, whom I do not adore but added for the sake of completeness, Grainger, and Brickman, whom you've already heard."

"He is the one who wrote my song," Snape told her straightforwardly.

She smirked and responded in the affirmative.

"Are you going to play it?"

He didn't look up from the page as he asked her this. Hermione would have almost said he was acting shy.

"I could, sir. I don't mind taking requests, and I can play that one whenever you wish, since I know it by heart."

"And by rote as well?"

"Perhaps," she said as she snagged a sandwich before she started to play. "It is one of my favorites."

"You seem to have a lot of favorites," he responded flatly. "Are you not very discriminatory?"

Was he annoyed with her? Confused, she responded. "No, I am, really. Consider how much music there is in the world."

"And shall we be hearing some of your own work as well?"

"Um, no. That is Grainger with an 'i'."

"That isn't a very common name, even among Muggles. Relative of yours?" He looked up to face her now, curiosity in his face.

Hermione didn't respond right away. She just sat on the bench and smoothed over her flyaway hair.

"Yes. Yes, he is," she said eventually, growing quiet. "No one knows but me…and now you."

He waited patiently for her to continue, placing his pen on the table and settling his full attention on her.

Hermione squirmed for a moment on the bench before she told her story, with a sigh. "My father was born in Australia to the composer, Percy Grainger, late in his life. He was born of his mistress. Percy and his wife had no children. My father was given to an aunt and uncle for them to raise, to cover Percy's infidelity and because the couple could not have children of their own. Percy had nothing to do with my father, and, when my father met my mother, they moved here, married, and had me. My father's family was from England originally, but the only ones I have heard of are in Australia. For a brief moment over the summer, when the Muggle attacks were starting to get bad, I thought about just Obliviating them and sending them to my great aunt. 'Course, it's too late for that now. Anyway, my dad hated my grandfather, who was quite eccentric anyway, so, before he married my mum, he dropped the 'i' from our name. And no one would immediately look at me and think of some deceased Australian piano composer anyway. We do look kind of alike. Same bushy hair, though his is red to my brown. But, there you have it. The big Granger family secret, now privy to only two souls in the whole world since I have no idea if my great aunt and uncle are even still alive. I may truly be the last Granger or Grainger."

"Then when you marry?" he asked her, looking back down to finish up his grading.

"I plan on taking my husband's name. I'm kind of old-fashioned in that respect. But who knows? No one may want to marry a nosy little harridan."

"True," he said, still not looking to her.

She frowned a little at him. "Thank you for the vote of confidence, sir. Now I'm sure you've heard quite enough from me, so I'll get started."

Smartly, she turned to her piano and missed the little smirk Snape gave her.

She played through Sibelius's powerful and ominous _Finlandia_ (1) before starting _Metamorphosis_ 1, by Philip Glass. (2) She explained how they were both considered modern, but the second was described as minimalist.

"I don't care for that," he told her.

"I don't either, honestly. It's an acquired taste. Some people find the music very calming or rhythmically interesting. I find it a bore. Plus, it does this." Hermione played out a sequence of notes on her piano, before pausing and playing a second, third, fourth, and fifth set.

"They sound like the same thing," Professor Snape said. He was now finished with his grading and had Banished it back to his rooms.

"Essentially, they are. Change the key or make it minor, and, with Glass, you have a whole new song. There are actually five songs in _Metamorphosis_. I just played you bits of all five."

"Dreadful."

"Indeed. But, all is not lost. There are several wonderful modern composers who embrace the beauty in simplicity, and not just simplicity for simplicity's sake. Eric Whitacre is one of them. Some of his work includes program music, which is music that tells a story. He has a song with accompanying theatrical elements that is all about Godzilla attacking Las Vegas before he gets defeated by a troop of Elvis impersonators."

He took a sip of tea and told her, "That's absurd."

"Yes, it is, but it's also quite amusing. You would like 'Ghost Train.' It really sounds like a train. This piece is called 'Equus,' and, obviously, it will have the influence of equestrian animals. It has urgency to the rhythm and tempo. It's very staccato." She noticed his questioning look and explained, "It means short or punctuated notes. _Dut dut dut dut_. You'll see. Even during the big crescendo, it still maintains the harried undercurrent. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do." (3)

He closed his eyes and listened as she played. Why had he never discovered this before? Snape considered himself to be a man of culture, in some respects. He could pick out a fine wine, he recognized a Rembrandt from a Vermeer, and Merlin knew he had enough books. But those skills were largely self-taught, in the case of the books, or absorbed from the knowledge of others. One did not go to Malfoy Manor often and not learn to appreciate the finer things, even if he didn't care enough to drink more than whatever was on hand and the portraits in his chambers had not changed in more than fifteen years.

She was telling him now about Grainger, and he made himself focus to avoid another incident like their last meeting.

"I'll play two pieces, 'Country Gardens,' which is his most popular, and 'Molly on the Shore.' I think it was named after an aunt or someone. They are jaunty and, to me, sound very English. Perhaps you will see what I mean."

Snape listened, and even with his untrained ear, he could pick up her meaning. Bright and simple, the first song sounded like something to dance to at a country ball. (4) The second was very quick, and he was mesmerized by her fingers flying over the keys. (5) With that kind of stamina and dexterity, no wonder she was a superior Potions student. Pity she was taking over for Minerva. But perhaps he could interest her in assisting in research…

Snape shook his head at the absurdity. No use pretending he would be around after the war. Dumbledore hadn't made it, Potter probably wouldn't either. At least he wasn't a headmaster. He wouldn't have to suffer eternity next to the old coot. He wondered if a portrait could commit suicide.

Until after the war, if there was an after, there would be no dreams for him. Just perhaps some idle thoughts of whether her fingers would look as white against his hair as they did against the coal black of the piano keys. He shook the cobwebs from his head for a second time and readjusted in the chair.

Hermione was paused at the piano, looking at him strangely. He noticed she had that habit when she was debating with herself. He wished Legilimency was more discreet so that he could hear the conversations between the devil and the angel in her mind. It was obvious which one she normally listened to, but he would bet the other side gave a good fight.

As though she were the Legilimens, she nibbled the inside of her cheek and told him, "This is the Brickman piece. It's called 'Hero's Dreams.' I think every hero should have one, or there isn't much point to it, is there, Professor?" (6)

She started playing without a response, which was fortunate because he wasn't sure he could give her one.

The girl was impossible. She made him think the impossible. How was that even possible? Feeling his brain begin to muddle, he listened as Hermione followed the song with what he thought of as his piece. (7)

No sooner had she started then he felt it. The burning sensation against his arm. Only this time, it really was his arm. Snape knew there was no Galleon to blame.

But she was playing for him. She was playing his song. He didn't want to go, not yet. Gritting his teeth, he vowed to wait. Three minutes. The reptilian bastard could give him three minutes.

Typically, he was the first to arrive at the meetings. Dumbledore had told him to hasten his way as much as he could to give the impression of eagerness. Nothing was too important that it couldn't wait.

Well, this time, dammit, he was waiting. He watched her, graceful and elegant, as she played. Youthful and untouched, despite what Fate had determined was her path. He was going to absorb the knowledge of this cabernet sauvignon for three wonderful minutes, much as he did in the Manor.

She finished her song, and her smile quickly faded into lines of worry. "Are you alright, sir?"

"I've been Summoned," he said abruptly.

Her eyes widened. "Well then, by all means, go! Gosh, don't let me keep you. Just interrupt if you ever have to leave!"

"I did not wish to leave until you had finished."

She flung her hands in the air as though she were exasperated with Harry or Ron. "Well, I'm finished so go! I can always play it again for you after!"

He glared at her, and even though he was standing, he made no move towards the door, mulling over the implications that she would be waiting for him to return.

She exhaled noisily. "Why are we even arguing about this? Sir, it's much more important for you to leave."

She noticed his snarl and flaring nostrils.

"I don't take _any_ orders well, _Miss_ Granger."

Oh, that was it. She had _had_ it. Hands on her hips, she snapped at him. "Severus Snape, if you don't go out that door this instant, I am going straight to the headmistress!"

With his arms crossed in front of him and hers still on her hips, they glared at each other until, with a snap of his cloak behind him, he stormed away with a "Tell McGonagall" tossed over his shoulder.

Hermione just about dropped her head against the piano. Obstinate man!

In a sequence that was now second nature, she shrunk and packed the music, grabbed the whole plate of biscuits this time, and ran her fingers along the polished wood of the piano before she left. _You're black, hard, and temperamental too. Perhaps I shall call you Severus, _she thought as she left to go find the Headmistress.

'Ginger Newt' worked for the second time to give her passage to the Headmistress' office. At Minerva's door, she knocked lightly in case she was asleep for the night, even though it was now barely nine o'clock.

She was startled when the door opened quickly.

"Yes, Hermione? Is everything alright?" asked the prim little woman wrapped in her nightdress.

She motioned for Hermione to take a seat and looked questioningly at the plate of biscuits Hermione set on the desk.

Hermione took a seat and told her, "Professor Snape said to tell you he's been Summoned."

"Oh dear," she responded. "Thank you for telling me, Hermione. I'll be sure to wait up until he returns."

"Can I…I mean, do you mind if I wait as well?" Hermione nervously asked her. She was surprised as the words left her mouth, but she found herself concerned for his well being. His luck had to run out sometime, and she knew she wouldn't sleep until she was sure he was safe in the castle.

Minerva looked over her glasses at the nervous young witch. She saw only sincerity there, as she knew she would. She knew Severus and Hermione had met several times already, but even she did not know how often. And if it improved his disposition, and Hermione remained willing, she didn't care. If Hermione better understood her professor, and if Severus gained a friend, then she could begrudge neither.

"Of course you may stay. I see you brought fortifications?" said Minerva, motioning to the plate on the desk.

"I couldn't just leave them, Professor. They are Everything Biscuits. It's my mother's recipe, and Professor Snape has taken a liking to them. Dobby learned to make them for me sometime in fourth year."

She watched as the older woman picked up a biscuit and eyed it. "What is in here, Hermione? It looks like everything!"

"Hence the name, Professor. Everything but the kitchen sink. They have coconut, yellow raisins, butterscotch chips, and pecans."

"And these are good?" Minerva asked skeptically.

"Fantastic," said Hermione. "They _are_ my favorite."

Minerva nervously tried one and quickly conceded defeat. They were strange, these Muggle biscuits, but quite tasty.

Hermione's nervousness returned, and she paced the office. "How long is he usually gone?"

"A half hour? All night? It really depends on the reason for his Summoning. I am hoping tonight he won't be more than an hour or two."

The time passed slowly as Hermione wandered the office. For a little while, she paced the room, picking up the strange whirling objects, running her fingertips along the spines of the dusty books, or just observing all the different headmasters in their portraits. She was surprised that for a society as backward as this one, they had allowed a woman headmistress so soon.

After half an hour or so, Hermione grabbed another biscuit and draped herself over a wingback chair, her feet dangling over the armrest as she watched the headmistress work at her desk.

She reacted quickly when McGonagall tossed her a book. "Find something to keep yourself busy, girl, before you wear holes in my carpet."

Hermione looked at the title: Transformative Transfigurations: A Guide in Educational Application of Theory. She smiled. Well, she never had gotten a chance to finish it, so she flipped to the middle section and began where she had left off.

Another hour passed. The time was now nearly eleven and nearing Hermione's bedtime. She yawned as she rearranged herself in the chair.

"Are you sure you don't wish to leave, Hermione? I could send you word as soon as he arrives," said the concerned headmistress.

"No, ma'am. I'm fine. I'll be just as unproductive there as I will be here. My father used to tell me I was a mother hen."

"I remember from the times Mister Potter and Mister Weasley found themselves in Poppy's care. You may stay, but try to rest," McGonagall said and noticed that shortly after their talk, the young girl fell asleep in the chair, curled around the book. She conjured a blanket and tossed it over her for warmth.

Hermione woke to the sound of a loud _whoosh_! She turned her head around toward the Floo but could barely twist enough to see.

"I have returned," she heard Snape say.

"And are you well, Severus?" asked McGonagall.

"As well as can be expected on nights such as these," he answered tiredly.

"Let me show Hermione to her rooms, and then I'll be right down."

He nodded once, and the connection closed.

Hermione was safely and sleepily led back to her room while her professor stood puzzled in his living room.

Had she said Hermione? Why was she still there?

Was she waiting for him?

She had waited for him.

He was doomed.

**A/N: Everything cookies, or loaded oatmeal cookies**

1C golden raisins, boiled for 5 min in just enough water to cover them

1C real butter or shortening

1 1/2C sugar

2 eggs

1/8tsp salt

1tsp vanilla

1tsp baking soda

5tbl of raisin water

2C flour

2C old fashioned oat meal

1/2C coconut

1/2C chopped nuts

1C butterscotch chips

Cream butter and sugar, then add eggs, salt, vanilla and mix. In a separate bowl, mix baking soda and raisin water together before adding to batter. Stir in flour, then oatmeal. Add in the raisins after they have been strained, then butterscotch chips, nuts and coconut, mixing well. Place on a cookie sheet one inch apart. You can roll them into golf ball sized balls or drop by tablespoons. Bake at 375F for 15min or until golden brown. The batter will be sticky, but if it is unmanageable, add in a bit of flour.

…did I mention I met Alan Rickman?

Teaser for next week: _The chit was literally going to kill him._


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: ****http://www****. roselocator. com/rose_locator/roses/english_roses/471_gentle_ ****(3 spaces)**

Just thought I would add this in here, even though I know the majority of you are going to roll your eyes at me. However, the confusion lost me a reviewer in the last chapter.

Hermione is white.

Please, please, stifle your gasps. She is also an English, Muggle-born witch. Please, then, don't be offended if I don't have her follow the culture of the Chinese, Portuguese, ect. I have no issue with her hyphenating her last name or anything else. In fact, she isn't even in a relationship right now, so she is just conjecturing.

If this has caused you confusion, I apologize.

Also, several reviewers asked for more of my impressions of our dearest Mr. Rickman.

His voice really does sound like that, but in person, he is rather soft spoken, in a velvet over bare skin sort of way. His hands were very soft, and he smelled deliciously clean. With his Yale prof outfit, he wore a pair of awesome dark with white strips socks, which, for some reason, made us fangirls very happy.

I saw the fish scarf.

And we were sitting in the row in front of Jeremy Irons.

Last, but not least, love to my beta and BP'r, Liongirl and shuldham, and I apologize for the obscene amount of fluff that worked its way into this chapter. And much notice has been given to 'Snape's Song.' Sound of Your Voice, by Brickman. I made this into a ringtone. If anyone would like it, shoot me an email.

**Playlist:**** http://www .youtube. com/view_play_list?p=4AE2736E3F45FEC8 (2 spaces)**

**Author Fail: **For those of you who tried to access the playlist and couldn't, sorry. My fault! It seems when you make a playlist, you need to actually ADD the movies to make it work. Youtube is not, in fact, psychic. Sorry! Problem fixed.

**Chapter Ten**

It was a Hogsmeade weekend for the older students, and Hermione was torn.

She was excited to get a start on her Christmas shopping – even if it was still October – and to have some free time. She was, however, going to be mostly on her own supervising the other students as Head Girl since Harry had finally asked Ginny to accompany him for the day, and Ron and Lorrell were going to have their first outing outside the castle as well.

"Luna!" Hermione called out as she walked along the busy street.

"How are you today, Hermione?"

"I'm good, Luna. I was wondering, if you aren't doing anything this morning, would you like to do a bit of shopping with me?"

Luna frowned as the girls headed down the path out of the castle. "Oh, I'm sorry, Hermione. I promised Neville I would meet him. I can see if he would like you to come, if you want."

Hermione smiled at her friend, wondering if she knew how much Neville liked her. "No, Luna. You two go on and have a great day."

"Would you like to meet up for dinner at the Three Broomsticks later?"

"That would be wonderful. I'll get Ginny and Lorrell as well. About five o'clock so that we can get a start back up to the castle after?" Hermione asked.

"Sound great," Luna said. "I'll see you later!"

Hermione waved as the blonde went in search of Neville. Even Luna was busy. Now she really was on her own. Oh well. At least she didn't have to worry about anyone seeing their gifts.

She thought of who she had to buy for: Harry, Ron, Ginny, Minerva, Arthur and Molly, Neville, and Luna. Perhaps Lorrell as well. And maybe something for Professor Snape, along with the baubles she bought for her other professors each year.

Ron would be easy. Broom polish and, since he was in a relationship again with someone who wasn't herself, lip balm. Perhaps she would make her own and put some anti-inflammatory in it as well.

Harry…what do you get the boy who can buy himself whatever he wants? She wasn't trying to mother him, but he really could use a planner. Then again, Ginny helped with that. What about a familiar? Harry had Hedwig, but he had never had a pet. Maybe she would look for a pygmy puff like Ginny's. Even their pets could have babies…

Ginny? Ginny needed an owl. That girl was constantly sending letters to people, and Pig was, well, Pig.

Minerva was a scary one to think about. She had gone from being Professor to Headmistress and her employer. There was that robe at Madame Malkin's, the rich blue with ribbon trim, and surely Madam Malkin would have Minerva's measurements. Hermione could send an owl…

Arthur and Molly. Now there was a special couple. They were people who always welcomed her and had proclaimed her part of the family. She didn't know what their wants were, but she knew what their needs were. She decided she was going to share a bit of her inheritance with them, just like how Harry had given his Triwizard Tournament winnings to the twins. There was still going to be enough left over to last more than her and her children's lifetimes, if not many more.

Neville would get the updated Goshawk's Guide to Herbology. Hermione would knit a parka for Luna. Lorrell had just mentioned how she still hadn't tasted much of their food, like jelly babies, digestive biscuits, or treacle. She would buy her a few things and talk to Dobby about making the friends a meal.

Hermione had no idea for Professor Snape. He would just have to wait until later. And she needed to check with Minerva to make sure he even celebrated Christmas. That would be a horrible faux pas.

Speaking of the good professor, she saw him now eyeing some students near Fred and George's shop with a scowl set on his face. A few days had passed since she had spent the evening waiting for him to return. She hadn't spoken to him, but seeing him at the High Table the next morning was more of a relief than she cared to think about. Hermione had no idea what had transpired at the meeting, but he seemed to be none the worse for wear. Still, perhaps he would want to accompany her this evening. The common room was going to be chaos after everyone returned, and she would surely be looking for some solitude.

"Good day, Professor!" she said merrily, walking up to him outside the store while ignoring the strange looks the startled students gave her upon seeing her address their nemesis.

"Is it? I hadn't noticed."

"Seems to be so far. No one has stolen anything and been caught, no one has ventured into the Shrieking Shack, and I've only had one snogging couple down in the alley by Zonko's."

"Happy day indeed," he told her, giving her the same wary eye the students had.

"Would it brighten your spirits to join me tonight? Same time, same place?"

He looked at her quizzically. "You've never asked in person before."

She smirked at him, a bit exasperated. "I beg your pardon, sir, for breaking protocol. Excuse me, please."

Hermione ducked into the new Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes shop, and not a moment passed before his pocket grew warm. Rolling his eyes, he read the message.

_Tonight, same time, same place?_

Smart arse. He returned his missive.

_If it pleases you. _

Hermione smiled at the message.

_Well, it does._

His lips quirked faintly.

_So be it then. _

"Eh, you talking to your boyfriend there, Hermione? Clever use for those Galleons, ain't it, Fred?"

"You said it, George."

Hermione told them primly, "I am not talking to my boyfriend, and you two had better not get any ideas!"

By the time she left the store, Professor Snape was gone. She thought back on her brief Galleon texting. Had she really just said that? Told him it pleased her to have him there? Well it did, she supposed. She enjoyed his company.

There. She said it. She enjoyed his company. And perhaps the looks she caught from him once every so often after she finished a piece he particularly enjoyed. But she wasn't admitting that quite yet.

Hermione walked to the Three Broomsticks, grinning from ear to ear.

After she passed, Professor Snape slipped out of the nearby alley. She clearly hadn't seen him, which was intended.

He was a stupid fool. She hadn't even done anything really. What? Given him some kind words? Waited for him after a meeting? Told him she appreciated his company? That would barely pass for friendship for most people.

Then why was his heart pounding?

With a scowl, he headed for The Hog's Head.

~~HGSS~~

Entering the Three Broomsticks, Hermione quickly spotted the girls in a corner, already chatting animatedly.

Hermione was happy to be a witch as she sat down at the table, trying to imagine what all of their purchases would look like around the table if they had not been shrunk. She was pleased that she had had the foresight to send the blue pygmy puff and the beautiful barn owl up to the castle ahead of her. She had been able to procure everything she needed on this trip – except something for Professor Snape – and she happily related this to the girls.

"Christmas shopping?" exclaimed Ginny. "You've finished your Christmas shopping? It isn't for two months!"

"Yes, but we only have one other Hogsmeade weekend beforehand, and everyone will be doing their shopping then. I didn't have to fight crowds, and I got exactly what I wanted."

"Well, bully for you," said Lorrell.

Circe, she was a good fit for Ron. Determined to get to know her better, Hermione repressed a retort and asked her, "How was the date with Ron?"

"Oh my God, fabulous. We went and checked out the new brooms at the Quidditch shop. I think I might ask for one for Christmas since I can ride now. And I bought a bunch of bitchin' stuff from Fred and George. Those Extendable Ears? Way cool. I'm so going to spy on my sister now. And Ron is so much fun!"

"I'm glad you two enjoyed yourselves," said Luna. "Neville and I went looking in Dervish and Banges. We heard they had a snarfblat, but it turned out to be just a bubble pipe."

"Better luck next time, Luna," said Ginny with a grin.

"Ginny," said Lorrell, turning to regard the redhead, "Ron completely has your hair, and I love it."

"Actually, we all have my parents' hair, and it's atrocious."

"No way! I love Ron's hair! I'm totally for gingers. And he is one sexy ginger. I cannot get enough of his chest hair."

"And other things I don't need to be hearing!" said Ginny forcefully. "What you do or do not do, I don't care. But I don't want to hear about it."

Hermione was listening to Lorrell. It was good that someone was enjoying the aspects of him that drove her bonkers. The red hair made her nauseous, she still only used her broom when necessary, and she only spied on someone out of necessity.

She was completely and utterly pleased she was no longer with Ron. She was pretty sure Ron felt the same way.

Hermione was so thankful she hadn't slept with him. It would have been like sleeping with her brother…if she had had a brother, anyways. Not exactly the way to lose your virginity. She shuddered at the thought.

"And how was Harry, Ginny?" asked Hermione with a knowing smile. "I haven't seen you two all day."

Ginny unconsciously ran a hand over her hair, trying to smooth it. "It went well, it was good. We, um, went for a walk around town. Browsed Honeyduke's, of course…"

"Ron and I went to Honeyduke's!" interrupted Lorrell. "He actually kissed me behind the stand of sugar quills!"

"Harry and I used the face-changing masks from Fred and George, and he cornered me in the alley by Zonko's!" giggled Ginny.

"That was you?" yelled Hermione. "You broke my perfect record! You were the only couple I had to break up today! Honestly, couldn't you have waited until you returned to the castle?"

"No," said Ginny, completely seriously.

Hermione just rubbed her face and ignored her friends.

Her mind wandered as she listened to the girls talk about their day. It sounded like they all had had a marvelous time. They were giggling together, sharing stories like, "He opened the door at every store!" or "He was totally rubbing my thigh at the teahouse!"

What stories could she share of her day? "I got to break up you two snogging, I spent the majority of the time alone, and the highlight of my day was chatting with Professor Snape." She was half tempted to tell them just for the looks on their faces.

She shouldn't be throwing a pity party for herself, even in her mind. Harry and Ginny could have been dating for a year already, if Harry wasn't so blasted slow. And Luna and Neville were just adorable. How could she be angry with anyone who was as cute as they were? And Ron and Lorrell…well, she did like Lorrell. Hermione still didn't know her real well, but the girl was open and friendly. She was always game if someone wanted to do something. She wasn't real great at paying back favors, and Hermione was pretty sure she wouldn't trust her with life or death information, but she enjoyed having fun evenings with the blonde American, and she kept Ron out of her hair, for which she was profoundly grateful.

~~HGSS~~

Professor Snape had tossed back his quick drink at The Hog's Head and then began escorting students back to the castle. The teachers were bringing them back in shifts, and Aurors were patrolling the town to keep out any unwanted visitors. Safety was still a major concern, even though they tried to keep the extra security out of sight as much as possible.

After returning to his quarters, Snape found himself at a loss. Nothing he did kept his mind occupied. He tried books, research, grading, and chess. The best he gained was a few moments of interest before his mind went back to the same train of thought.

She_ sought _me_ out. She wants to see me tonight. She all but admitted she enjoyed my company. But I shouldn't be doing this. I cannot feel this way. She is a student. A wisp of a girl. Hermione deserves none of this. Of me. She is patient. She is kind. She is beautiful. She is everything a woman should be and I? I am…_

_I am no one. _

His thoughts could not tear themselves away. As much as he was tortured over the thought of her, it was like a bruise you couldn't help but touch. It was much more than just a physical attraction – although now just the scent of warm vanilla reminded him of just how attracted he was. Nimue, but he was a perverted wretch.

He was…he was old. And ugly. And mean. Hadn't she just watched him nearly strangle her best friend?

It wasn't that he felt he didn't deserve her. Or, well, something at least. After all these years, he knew that Fate had _something_ in store for him. If he didn't, he would have given up to the grave many years ago. However, the most he was hoping for now was a quick and painless death, much like Dumbledore. His affairs, what little there were of them, were in order, with most of his belongings going to the school. What else did he have?

No, it wasn't that he didn't deserve a reward. It was that there was no reason for _her_ to be saddled with _him_. His salvation should come in the form of an Avada Kedavra, not a vibrant young woman. She did nothing wrong. Gods, he had watched her for over six years now. Every rule she broke was for the greater good of wizarding kind. She had helped bumbling Potter not only live, but outwit the _Dark Lord_. The wizard that no one could seem to kill. She was brilliant. She was young. She shouldn't be entertaining the company of one such as him.

But she did, didn't she? She was seeking him out, not the other way around. Hermione was obviously concerned for his safety, and she had no qualms about speaking her mind to him. What was it she had said to force him to go?

"_Severus Snape, if you don't go out that door this instant, I am going straight to the headmistress!_"

He chuckled. Clever of her to pick up on the one living person in the castle who's authority he still respected.

Hang on. She had called him Severus.

Severus. Severus Snape. He played it over and over again in his mind. He liked his name the way she pronounced it, with all the syllables clearly spoken. Her lovely, lilting, alto voice. So precise, so…Hermione.

_Miss Granger_, he chided himself.

Oh, bollocks it. She was Hermione. If there was one person he swore he would never lie to, it was himself. He just…he couldn't go through with divulging his feelings. What a pathetic image that made. And never, upon pain of death, would she ever want to know. Hell, he couldn't even think about wanting to have a relationship with himself. But even if it were the case, he could not act on his desire. If he truly cared for her, he could not do this to her.

Oh, but how he wanted to.

But she was a student, and he her professor. To most, he was a Death Eater, while she was a promising bringer of the Light. They were complete opposites in the minds of the populace, the majority not realizing the things they had in common. Their need for solitude and acceptance. A love of books, and an unwillingness to change to please others. No matter when an intimacy occurred between them, it would always be taboo. Men like him were supposed to grow old alone and bitter and make others feel better about themselves.

Snape walked up to his mirror to take in his visage for a final time. Freshly showered, best day robes – which looked like every other pair – and his cravat neatly tied. He pulled on the cuffs of his starched white shirt and smoothed the wrinkles from his already wrinkle-free jacket.

Grabbing one last thing before leaving the room, he made a noise of disgust to himself and shut the door on his way to meet Hermione.

~~HGSS~~

Hermione ran the rest of the way to the door of the Room of Requirement and burst through the other side, slightly out of breath with rosy pink cheeks.

"I am so sorry! I tried to get away, and, I swear, if they asked me one more time to sit down and play Gobstones, I was going to snap."

She noticed Dobby had already come and gone as she put her music book on the piano bench. She wasn't that late, was she? She sat in the other chair to briefly grab something for a dinner that wasn't greasy or from Honeyduke's, and then she looked up and noticed her piano. Sandwich forgotten, she rose up and walked to the edge of the piano, unabashedly sticking her nose in the vase of three beautiful pink roses.

After a long inhalation, she exclaimed, "These are lovely! Were they here when you arrived?"

"No," he said simply.

"Did Dobby bring them?"

"No."

Hermione looked at him, confused.

"Did you bring them?"

"Perhaps," he said, not looking at her.

She smiled a shy but pleased grin. "A simple yes would be nice."

Snape shrugged nonchalantly. "I needed some petals for a potion and figured I could spare a few for the whims of a young woman. They are, after all, called 'Gentle Hermione.'"

He failed to mention that any flower would have sufficed, but he had picked those after Professor Sprout had told him the name. She had decided to plant them in her new planters made by their namesake.

He also failed to mention how many he had destroyed in his anger and indecision. Only when he was down to three roses left had he decided to bring them to her.

But just because she was helping him with his slumber.

Not as any kind of a gift or an act of courting. He was not pursuing her, and she would never be receptive.

"Really?" she asked, grinning fully now. "I only hear my name mentioned in mythology and Shakespeare's 'A Winter's Tale.' They really are lovely, sir. You have excellent taste, even if they are just for a potion."

He shrugged again and picked a piece of nonexistent lint from his jacket, partially regretting his impulse to bring the flowers to her, not wishing to call attention to himself.

Quirking her lips, Hermione made a decision. Walking over to him quickly, giving him no chance to escape, she leaned down and quickly wrapped her arms around him in a brief squeeze before standing up again and walking to the piano.

Snape was frozen. "And just what are you doing, Miss Granger?"

"Thanking you." It was her turn to shrug. "I'm a hugger, just ask my other friends. And if you don't like it, I wouldn't do anything nice for me."

"I'll keep that in mind," he said out loud. Inside, his mind said nothing, idly spinning its wheels as he attempted to perfectly remember that brief, sweet, and innocent embrace. He should have chastised her. Should have questioned her impertinence, thinking she could just touch him. Her professor! But he found it difficult to say no to the glass of sauvignon after being spoon-fed swill for so long.

"So," she said, changing topics, "How do you feel about Japan?"

"For this evening, I assume?"

"You assume correctly," she said. She finished her sandwich and flipped open the book at her piano. "I'm going to play some Keiko Matsui for you tonight. I'll play 'Water Lily,' 'Light Above the Trees,' 'Distance,' and 'Be with Me.'" Without more preamble, she opened to the correct page and began to play. (1)

He looked skeptically at her. "What? No music lesson?"

"I thought you grew bored with my chatter," she said in a slightly frosty tone.

"Not necessarily," he hedged. "You may chatter, if you wish."

She thought to herself that she had never smiled in front of him so much before. Perhaps his increased rest was improving his attitude. The circles under his eyes had faded somewhat, and Hermione had a brief mental image of him reclining, relaxed in bed, drifting off to sleep that joined the soft smile gracing her features.

The delicate notes of the piano filled the air around her, the light romantic tone breathing away the tension that had briefly arisen. The music was tentative, but trusting. A first touch between the intrigued.

"Even though Yamaha started making pianos in Japan in 1899, piano composition didn't become widespread in Japan until after the second World War. I think it was mostly due to the increased Western influence. The Japanese have always been very careful about keeping their cultural identity, so once the new instruments and musical theory became known, it had to be tweaked to fit in with their culture. Rentaro Taki was one of the first piano composers at the turn of the century…Am I boring you?" she asked suddenly with a worried look on her face.

"Surprisingly, no. Please continue." (2)

"Oh. Alright then. Um, some of the first Japanese music was called Gagaku, or court music, and was strictly instrumental. After that came Noh, which was more peasant music and was vocal as well as instrumental. During the Azuchi-Momoyama Period, several more instruments were added that increased in popularity during the Edo period. But piano wasn't introduced until after the Meiji Restoration." Hermione paused for a moment to flip the page as her more somber music became momentarily restless. The sounds of the hammer and pedals tinkled through the room, and true to the composition's title, the light could be heard dancing through the trees, splaying on the soft, green forest floor.

"Japanese musical theory was wholly derived from Chinese musical theory, which dates back to at least the fifth century B.C. In Chinese musical theory, the five tones of the musical scale, called a pentatonic scale, were intimately related to all the other 'fives' based on the five material agents: the directions, the seasons, organs, animals, et cetera. The five material agents were a sophisticated theory of change: all change, including musical change, was governed by the relationship of the five material agents – wood, fire, earth, metal, and water – either as they engendered one another or conquered one another. These two possible relationships – the sequence of the five material agents as they either engender or conquer – in part governed the sequence of notes in the scale. In addition, the five material agents were collapsed in a larger notion of yang and yin, the male –creation – and female – completion – principles of change in the universe. Likewise, the pentatonic scale was divided into a male scale and a female scale, or _ryo _and _ritsu _in Japanese."

She paused after her second song to demonstrate the pentatonic scale on the black keys of her piano.

"And where are you quoting that from?" he asked her.

Hermione sighed but started playing "Distance" anyway. (3) "I am paraphrasing an online lecture from the Washington State University in World Anthropology."

"I take it you took this course over the summer?"

"Perhaps," she told him.

"A simple yes would be nice," he drily responded.

She fought a smirk while looking at her piano. "Yes. During my summers, I often catch up on Muggle education and will occasionally enroll in a summer course."

"See?" he asked. "That wasn't so hard, was it?"

"You wouldn't know, would you?" she told him with a laugh. "You never give straight answers."

Snape looked at her and told her, "I'm a creature of habit."

"Well," she said in a teasing tone, "let's see if some of those habits can change."

_If only you knew_, he thought.

"So. Japan. There are many composers, of course, such as Ryuichi Sakamoto or Kentaro Noda, but I only have a book by Keiko Matsui, who is a modern pianist. She blends Eastern and Western music with smooth jazz, as you can hear. Much of her repertoire is something I would expect to hear in an elevator, but I adore her solo piano compositions. She takes some of her other pieces and distills them down to just the essential melodies, and it's very relaxing."

Hermione began the last song (4), which she explained was her favorite of the group, and then she told him, "Ron and Harry are very put out with you, you know."

"And what atrocities have I committed this time?" Snape could only imagine what indignities those two imbeciles could conjure in their free time. There was no doubt that he had been…less than fair to them in the past, but he knew that nothing untoward had occurred recently. Outside of him strangling Potter in class.

"I let you listen to me play," she stated simply.

He shrugged a little, though inwardly he was surprised. "The significance being?"

"I won't let them," Hermione told him, continuing to play.

He brushed aside the implications of that for a moment and concentrated on a more pressing issue. "They know you play for me?"

"Of course. They're my best friends. I tell them everything. Eventually, at least."

"Do they know why?" he asked, suddenly self-conscious.

She gave a little nod. "The basics, anyway. They know you have trouble sleeping and that this helps. You needn't worry about them thinking less of you, sir. Harry has Voldemort in his head. He knows all about sleep struggles."

Snape frowned. "They haven't said anything to me."

She finished her piece and raised a look to him. "Do you expect them to?"

"Of course. I fully expect the little brats to storm my classroom, wands drawn, accusing me of sullying their friend's honor and integrity."

She barked out a short laugh. "Well, you came pretty close, but it has already been handled. I'm not sure which shocked them more, however. When I told them that you were perfectly amiable, or when Ron asked what we do and I told him I give you a striptease on the piano."

His heart actually stopped beating, and he swallowed loudly as his mind raced to proffer an image of what that would look like. Hermione giving him a seductive smile as the strap of a chemise fell off her shoulder, grabbing the edge of the flowing skirt, raising it just a little higher, giving him a peep of…

The chit was literally going to kill him.

"Relax," she said, misinterpreting his 'deer in the headlights' look. "He knew I was kidding. In due course. I would never tell them anything that would threaten your position here or…elsewhere, or my position as Head Girl. Only the two boys know, and they have been completely faithful. I can't promise they won't look at you strangely in class, however."

"I trust you, Miss Granger," he said, surprising them both.

"I'm glad," she said quietly. "I've always trusted you, sir, so I am glad we are on equal footing. Do you mind if I play one last song?"

Somehow, he found his voice. "By all means."

Snape was beginning to notice her true favorite songs. These were the ones that merely mentioning would light up her eyes like a Charm and that she needed no music to play. Like any other recipe or instruction, the repetition had engraved them in her mind.

"This is called 'Her Most Beautiful Smile,' and it's by Taro Iwashiro. It's actually from an anime, but it's wonderful. It's an enchanting piece, and I think it really demonstrates that music is made up of the silence as well as the notes. If there were no pauses, we couldn't appreciate the melodies." She blushed at him – very prettily, in his opinion. "Sorry, sometimes I can get carried away." Hermione shyly glanced over at him from under her lashes.

He took in her whole picture. The perfect roses, the same color as her pretty cheeks. The sleek black piano with her delicate fingers resting on it, and her curly brown hair framing those toffee-colored eyes. He felt her take his breath away. He did not think he had ever been the cause of such a lovely woman's blush.

He waved his hand for her to continue, not trusting himself to speak, and she began her song.

Hermione began the slow and delicate music, with its hesitant and pregnant pauses. She softly smiled as she played, remembering a few of the happy moments from her past. Receiving her piano, her Hogwarts letter, seeing her friends after recovering from the basilisk. Coming down the stairs to see Viktor, her first kiss with Ron, and chatting with Severus on the snow-covered steps in Hogsmeade.

Severus now, was he?

Yes, he was, she told herself. He is a friend now. Whether he liked it or not.

Thinking about his reaction if she were to tell him her thoughts, she reflexively allowed her smile to remain.

"That one is yours," he said suddenly and softly.

"My what?" she asked, distracted from her musings as she continued to play.

"Your most beautiful smile."

Circe, but she blushed to her toenails. She looked at him and saw _that look_. That burning gaze she had only seen directed at herself, with the shimmering eyes and intense features. "Thank you," she managed. "I was thinking about you actually."

"No need for false compliments," he said shortly, the look quickly turning into a glower.

"No, I was, honest. I was thinking that I consider you a friend of mine now, and you are just going to have to deal with the consequences." So much for secrets. "You're the one who should be considered dishonest."

"How so?" he asked, worried that she would see straight through him, to what he most desperately wanted to hide.

"A compliment on my smile from the man who considered beaver teeth to make no difference in my appearance?" she said with her arms crossed, challenging him.

"Yes, well, things change," he admitted, smirking at her challenging posture.

"Yes, they do. And I must consider that _your_ most beautiful smile then, since that's all you have given me."

He fought it. He could honestly say he fought it, but in the end, he grinned just a little wider as he turned to let his hair cover the majority of his face.

"I can still see you."

He smiled a little more and crossed his arms and legs in defense.

"Well, now your knee and your chest are missing, but I can still see you smiling, Professor. You have to try harder than that," she told him in that adorably cheeky voice. He really was quite handsome when he smiled, and that thought sent a shiver through her.

He let out a snort of what was almost laughter before tossing her a fake smile.

Her laughter was loud and bright as it rang out in the large room. "Lovely, but we still have some room for improvement. Perhaps I will start handing out homework with my lectures, purely to practice for next year, of course."

"Yes, well," he said a bit testily after showing more of himself than he cared to, "the moment you start assigning detentions, I quit."

"Rest assured, sir. As long as you continue to behave, there will be no detention."

Chit.

Hermione watched his eyes shining with his internal laughter at her banter. She was almost proud of him for not becoming upset with her gentle teasing. Severus was proving to her a hypothesis she had had for quite some time. Somewhere in there was a different part of him that he never got to show. He was so caged in by his upbringing, by his own errors, and yes, by Dumbledore, that now he was locked into the role he must play, and he couldn't change it, even if he wished to. His position as a spy was too precarious, and he couldn't risk any changes that might draw the attention of the Dark Lord. But in here…in here, he could relax. He was sleeping better, he was comfrotable enough to eat with her, and he could unlock little doors of himself that had been kept under lock and key.

They stared at each other until Hermione broke the mood. If he kept looking at her in that fashion, she was going to do something she might come to regret. She was becoming far too interested in him and treating him in a less than professional manner. "I really must be going, can't tarnish my Head Girl reputation, but, sir?" she said quickly. "I just wanted you to know, anything that happens in here doesn't leave this room. I wouldn't violate your trust in me, and…and I don't mind being here. If you need someone. Sir."

He solemnly nodded at her, and she gathered her things. She gave him a questioning look and reached for one of the roses. He nodded again, and she smiled as she selected one to carry with her.

It was a long while that evening before Snape left the room. Even longer before he was able to find sleep. Many things ran through his mind. She had made him smile. She had taken his flower. She thought of him as a friend. His last friend had been her best friend's mother, and that hadn't ended so well. Perhaps it was time to give it another chance.

Once sleep did come, he dreamed of roses…and her smile.

Hermione was quite the opposite. She practically ran back to her room. She quickly transfigured a small vase for her flower and cast Disillusionment and Stasis charms on it. She wanted to see it, but she wasn't prepared for all the questions.

She lay in bed, and, with actions unknowingly mirroring his from a few weeks past, she lightly brushed her breast, soft as the rose petals, as her fingers found the sweet spot deep inside. She thought hard on strong arms, coal black eyes, and the look her gave her – was it a look of want? And if she sighed a little 'Severus' as she came, there was no one there to hear her.

And she knew just what to get him for Christmas.

**Next week's teaser:** _She leaned over her chair, surprised at her daring, and took his long pale fingers in hers._


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: **Just posted a one shot if anyone is interested titled Candle.

**Playlist: http:// www. youtube. com/watch?v=dmVXZ3E8pT8&feature=PlayList&p=DF9215033AC1B4A9&playnext_from=PL&index=0**

There are two versions of the second song. One solo piano, one voice with full accompaniment.

**Chapter Eleven**

He cursed his students under his breath as he hastily grabbed their essays from his desk. Snape often questioned why he assigned so much written homework, but he had learned over the years – even if they thought it made him a tyrant – that students learn in different ways. Some learn by doing, which was easy in a class like Potions. Some learn by hearing, so he lectured. Others learn by reading and writing, so they wrote essays. While most could manage to learn from one method of teaching, each student had a preferred method, and he catered to them all. That was one reason he had not had a death or serious injury in his class.

However, if it were up to him, his Slytherin second years would have had a death or serious injury about a half hour past. He had heard Dumbledore stumbling into one of the portraits in his quarters, laughing that the students were having themselves "a fantastic duel" and that he really must come see the hexes they were trying to cast. It had taken him these last thirty minutes to remove the purple spots, wobbly legs, and giraffe necks from the students. And, of course, to give them detention for the rest of the week.

He had planned on coming back to his study to complete the thrice damned essays before meeting Miss Granger, but now he lacked sufficient time. He decided to bring them along. At least then he could have a small repast and wouldn't have to be bothered to move again.

Essays in hand, he strode to the Room of Requirement. Confidently walking through the normally unobstructed door, he had no forewarning before he smashed his face – nose first, naturally – into what felt like a clear glass pane blocking him from entering the room further.

He could see Miss Granger had beaten him there. Odd, he thought at first, until he realized the glass prevented his movement but not his hearing.

His first instinct was to panic, inwardly of course, and draw his wand to break through the shield, but what he heard made him hesitate. (1)

Amid soft sniffles, the young woman was singing.

"'You used to rock me in the cradle of your arms,'" he heard her sing. "'You said you'd hold me 'til the pains of life were gone. You said you'd comfort me in times like these, and now I need you. Now I need you, and you are gone.'"

He suddenly realized it wasn't only her voice he heard. Although she was the only person he could see, he could hear other female voices joining her in a….what did she call it? An a cappella arrangement. Clever enchantment indeed.

"'I am sitting here wanting memories to teach me to see the beauty in the world through my own eyes. Since you've gone and left me,'" she sniffled, "'there's been so little beauty, but I know I saw it clearly through your eyes. Now the world outside is such a cold and bitter place. Here inside, I have few things that will console. And when I try to hear your voice above the storms of life then I remember all the things that I was told.'"

It was eerie seeing her sit so still. She was on the bench of the piano but not playing. From behind he could tell that her head was slightly bowed as she sang along with her quartet. She had been so strong in the past that he couldn't help but wonder what had affected her so now.

"'I think on the things that made me feel so wonderful when I was young. I think on the things that made me laugh, made me dance, made me sing. I think on the things that made me grow into a being full of pride. I think on these things for they are true.'" She took a deep, calming breath as sat up a little higher. With a little hope in the lilt of her sad voice, she continued her moving song. "'I am sitting here wanting memories to teach me to see the beauty in the world through my own eyes. I thought that you were gone, but now I know you're with me. You are the voice that whispers all I need to hear.'"

It was obvious that she was singing about her parents. Was this how she truly felt about them? Professor Snape ignored much of what he could remember about his own home when he was a child. It certainly hadn't been an experience that would encourage such words as these that she sang with such heartfelt sincerity.

He was learning more about her, much more than he ever thought he would comfortably know about anyone, through the music she shared with him. He wondered if she realized how much of herself she gave away and if she was this open with everyone or if it was just his ingrained instincts that were picking up on the little details.

"'I know a please, a thank you, and a smile will take me far. I know that I am you and you are me and we are one. I know that who I am is numbered in each grain of sand. I know that I've been blessed…again  
and over again.'"

Well, that explained much of her behavior. She was always courteous, always polite, even in the most pressing of situations. This was the girl who thanked the bloody castle. Snape almost wished he could have met the parents who had raised such a woman as Hermione Granger.

He heard her repeat the chorus once again, and he noticed that her tears had not diminished but had increased with the completion of her singing. What was the purpose of this if it only upset her further? Wishing to chastise her for such illogical behavior, he once again removed his wand to Vanish the clear barrier.

"You can come in, sir," Hermione said softly as she quickly grabbed some things off the piano and put them in her pack.

He heard her words as soon as he cast but was still surprised to see his spell travel straight through the barrier and hit the opposite wall. Maybe there was something to conversing with the castle.

Before entering, Snape pondered why there had been a barrier erected in the first place. Had she cast it so as not to be disturbed? Nonsense, she had not known he had arrived early.

Had the castle placed it there? Had it wanted him to hear her but not interfere?

Bloody Albus Percival Wulfric Brian _Castle_.

Refusing to be intimidated by a meddling building, he straightened his back and walked stiffly to his chair before elegantly sitting down and crossing a leg. He tried to appear stoic, but that was difficult in the presence of a sniffling young woman – especially one who was increasingly on his conscience. Who was, he reflected, possibly becoming his conscience.

His eyebrows furrowed as he gently, for him at least, asked her, "What has upset you?"

Hermione was slightly surprised at his question. Not that he had asked, but that it managed to come out as a question and not a command. "Today is my father's…._was_ my father's birthday," she said, looking at the piano.

That would explain it then.

"I know I said I try and not grieve in sorrow. Try, I suppose, would be the operative word in that sentence. Sometimes, I just need to 'blubber like a sissy girl' in the words of Ron. It's messy, but I feel better afterward."

He frowned at her. Never having felt the need to "blubber" in recent memory, he could not sympathize with her. But, surprising himself, he did empathize. Severus knew sorrow.

"And why that particular song?" he found himself asking.

"Because it's true to my feelings," she said softly. "My parents supported me through everything. They didn't understand it, but I suppose they were the Arthur Weasley of Muggles, wanting to learn and experience as much as they could. You're surprised, I'm sure," she continued with a wry smile through her post-cry hiccups.

"And now, I feel like I am coming into adulthood, and I wish they could be here for this. I still have so many questions, and so many of my views have been molded around what I grew up with. My vision of the world is colored by them, and now I have to find my own vision if I want to continue to see love and joy and hope. Because they aren't here to help me see it anymore.

"But that doesn't change who I am. It doesn't change that I was raised to respect others and to always try to kill with kindness before leading someone off to the centaurs." She heard him chuckle. Well, the falsely sweet sadist really had deserved it. "I know that as long as I am true to myself, I'll carry part of them with me," said Hermione, starting to choke up again, "and I know I was blessed to have them even as long as I did, because some of my friends, like Harry and Neville, never even got their parents at all."

By now, she was in a full cry again and had rested her head on her crossed arms on the piano. "I'm sorry, sir," she said through the tears. "I need to learn when to be quiet."

"No harm done." _Dear_, he thought to himself. "I am a Head of House. I have dealt with sniveling."

He was surprised to hear her choked chuckle. "Thank you."

A moment after she withdrew a handkerchief from her pocket, she composed herself and glanced at him, unashamed or unaware of her blotchy red cheeks, puffy lips, and bloodshot eyes.

Well, she certainly wasn't an elegant damsel in distress. He found he didn't care. He knew he had often ridiculed people like her who put emotion before reason. Snape now knew they were having the last laugh. But with Hermione, he didn't care. Let them scoff.

"Sorry to subject you to my singing too. I love to sing, but now you know why I don't do it in front of others."

Her alto voice was fair, though it didn't hold a candle to her piano playing. Hermione sang for her own enjoyment, feeling the happiness of making a joyful noise, even if she knew she would never be known for that ability. She was not unaccustomed to enjoying something that wasn't her best skill, which was why she still dabbled in her knitting.

"Your voice was not appalling, Miss Granger. You seem to carry on well enough."

The corners of her lips turned up in an imitation of his almost-smile. "Thank you. I had one other song I wanted to sing tonight. Would you mind? I won't be offended if you want to leave and come back in a little while, or I can sing it after you're gone. I don't want to inconvenience you. "

"Carry on as you will. I have essays to grade. I could ignore Dumbledore. I am sure if you are wretched, I can ignore you too."

Hermione, in a moment of insight, thought about the next song she wanted to sing. "Sir, if you find that you don't care for this, just leave. I won't mind."

"Just sing, Miss Granger. You sounded perfectly fine, I assure you. The sooner you've finished, the sooner we can get on with our regularly scheduled program." He saw her wince and then nod. God, he was a right bastard. Bringing her flowers one day and berating her for mourning her recently murdered parents the next. He needed to figure out, and fast, exactly where she fit into his life. He was currently doing neither of them any favors.

That was, of course, assuming she cared. At least once he had made up his own mind, he could treat her with consistency.

She hummed the beginning and then played just a few notes of accompaniment on her piano as she sang.(2) "'Where has the starlight gone? Dark is the day. How can I find my way home?'"

Her eyes were lightly closed as she continued, lashes wet with unshed tears as a single one began to grace her cheek. He looked up from his grading and just stared as he followed its path, forgetting his earlier musings and any fear that she might catch him.

"'Home is an empty dream, lost to the night. Father, I feel so alone.'"

His ears perked up at her words, these ones hitting close to home. Never had he felt so alone himself since the only father figure he had known in his life had been killed by his own hand. Oblivious to his thoughts, she continued her song with rising emotion.

"'You promised you'd be there whenever I needed you. Whenever I call your name, you're not anywhere. I'm trying to hold on, just waiting to hear your voice. One word, just a word will do to end this nightmare.'"

Her tears ran free now, but her voice resisted the quiver in her chest.

His breath began to come quicker now as he watched her intently, and there must have been some contagion in the air, for he felt a prickle at the corner of his eye.

Snape knew where this emotion came from as well. She was not alone in watching her parents die. It was true that Dumbledore was more his father than his biological one, and his grief was profound at being the cause of the older man's death.

But it could not compare to the grief of a child who could do nothing to stop the death of his mother at the hands of the man he had once called Father.

"'When will the dawning break, oh, endless night? Sleepless, I dream of the day when you were by my side, guiding my path. Father, I can't find the way.'"

Hermione thought of everything in her future and, for a moment, despaired that her parents would not be there. There were many, so many, questions she wanted to ask. Was she right in choosing to stay on at the castle? To move on from Ron? What would they think of her owning a cottage in Hogsmeade and fully joining the wizarding world? Would they have approved of whomever she chose to marry?

What would they think, seeing her now, as she befriended her lonely, mistreated, and tetchy professor?

She thought they would approve, but she wished she could hear it.

"'You promised you'd be there whenever I needed you. Whenever I call your name, you're not anywhere. I'm trying to hold on, just waiting to hear your voice. One word, just a word will do to end this nightmare.'"

Snape was suddenly six years old again, playing behind the shabby row house he called home while his mother was out shopping. He had a collection of empty bottles and was pretending to brew potions in them, filling them with sand, plants, and rocks.

He didn't notice as he lifted one that a long crack ran along the side, and as he gripped it, the glass shattered in his hand, a large chunk embedding itself in the flesh of his arm.

The child Severus ran into the house, calling for his father to help. To wash it out, to make it better. But his father never came, passed out in the recliner at the front of the house.

Severus gritted his teeth as he cried, pulling out the sharp glass and trying to stop the bleeding. His cries for help turned to thoughts of vengeance, morphing into a hatred for the man who never stopped the nightmare. Instead, he _was_ the nightmare.

Snape still bore the scar underneath his Dark Mark.

Voices brought him back to the present, and Hermione played the melody they sang. She joined them, singing the words of hope she clung to over their chant.

"'I know, yes, I know the sun will rise. Yes, I know! I know the clouds must clear. I know that the night must end. I know that the sun will rise, and I'll hear your voice deep inside,'" she sang, one small fist over her heart and the piano now silently forgotten.

"'I know that the night must end and that the clouds must clear. The sun, the sun will rise. The sun, the sun will rise!'"

The long solo note completely filled the large space with nothing for support but her lungs.

After a quiet moment, a sigh was heard, and she whispered, "I miss him."

"I miss him, too," he offered, knowing it was not for the man in the recliner that he longed. That dream was dead.

She held his gaze as she rose from the bench and crossed over to the empty chair. The sadness in his face was unmistakable, even if she had never seen it before. She leaned forward in her chair, surprised at her daring, and took his long, pale fingers in hers. They sat like that, in silence, each pondering their own thoughts, for quite some time.

In time, she asked, "What was it like, sir? Your childhood?"

He spoke to the floor instead of to her and said, "I don't believe I ever was a child. Not in the terms you use to describe your youth. It was as I am sure you have imagined. My father resented my mother's magic. My mother's magic was not enough to keep her strong. I was no one."

She squeezed Snape's hand in silent encouragement, ignoring the chill of his fingers. "Because of my father, I vowed to become stronger than him, to prove to him that magic made her better than him. It was this attitude that drew me to the Dark Lord. He was someone who could prove to the worthless man once and for all who was the superior person. That he was a cretin for not being able to wave a wand. It was also because of my father I vowed never to harm a woman." He looked her straight in the eyes and said, "No matter what you may think of me, Hermione, believe that. I never have."

Her heart broke, just a little. She had never thought too hard on what he may or may not have done, but the fact that he felt he had so much to prove, that he felt his actions were constantly in question, touched her "mother hen" instincts and made her want to embrace him and hold him tight. However, she was sure that that wouldn't go over well. Hermione was surprised at how well he was taking her holding his hand. She looked down at their entwined fingers, and she gently stroked the back of his hand in comfort. Her nervousness had her senses on edge, and she could feel every facet of his skin. The hair on the back of his hand, the smoothness she had not expected, and the coolness in contrast to her warmth.

He took back his hand and pondered his fingers, anchoring himself with the feeling of her supple skin. "Shortly after my mother's death, I lost someone else dear to me, as you know, and I realized that it wasn't the magic that made someone a better person. By then it was too late, but Dumbledore was willing to use me. And for seventeen years, he did. But even still, he was really the only parent I ever had. I just didn't meet him until I was eleven, and I wasn't in his service until I was twenty-one. And even to him, I was just a bloody pawn. Now I am waiting for the orders that will send me to my grave, hopefully along with the Dark Lord."

She looked at him, stunned, and said, "You need to have hope, sir. I know the sun is going to rise, and Voldemort is going to fall, and the earth will continue to spin, and life will go on, because if it doesn't, there is just no point to any of this, is there?"

"There are other things to fight for, to live and die for, than hope," he told her, hoping she would not see how absolutely unnerved she had made him feel.

She had made him _feel_. He filed that away to distill later.

"But would you want a world based on any of those things? On revenge, or prejudice, or false loyalty? No. Better it be for hope and for love. 'Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter.'"

"Love dies in times of strife. Better it be something that can withstand conflict and that is tempered by the trials of time," he answered.

"You've faced the trials of time, sir. Do you not still love?" She was aware she was being impertinent asking him such personal questions, but he was being so obstinate!

And she was rather curious.

He shook his head. "Not as I once did, no. Not recently," Snape said, avoiding her eyes.

"I believe that you can fall in love during times of tranquility, but it's the battles that make it stronger," Hermione told him. "I once asked Father how his relationship with my mother was so wonderful, and he told me I should have been there at the beginning. Apparently they did not just adjust to living with each other like people said they would. Instead, they crashed together like a mortar and pestle.

"Eventually, over the years and after they had had me, they helped grind down each other's rough edges. They became integral to each other, worn by the experiences and by each other until they could rest snug in the other's dips and grooves. She made him more patient, he made her more grounded, and between them, they could grind away whatever rocks were thrown at them."

Hermione sighed deeply and plunked a few notes on the keyboard. "They became perfect for each other but didn't start out that way. It took work, and dedication, and time, and patience, and yes, Professor, love. I don't know your history, but that is the love I have. That is how I put up with Harry and Ron and why I chose Crookshanks. Are they perfect? Of course not, but neither am I. I should be just as shocked that they want to remain friends with me as they are that I keep speaking with them. But we've gotten older, and we've matured, and we're even better friends now. Even Crookshanks has stopped hissing at Ron and chewing holes through my robes."

"You remain friends with Weasley, even after his appalling display in the hall?" he asked, incredulous.

"Even after his appalling display in the hall. He has done, and will do, worse things, I assure you. Before we even became friends he was insulting me to Harry. 'She's a nightmare, honestly. It's no wonder she hasn't got any friends,'" Hermione quoted, remembering Ron in their first year and rolling her eyes.

"He insulted you," said Professor Snape in a queer and quiet voice, "and you forgave him?"

How would his life have changed if he had had such a friend?

"Obviously. People can say things they don't mean, but he has shown he is a true friend when it counts. Everyone makes mistakes. If I stopped being friends because someone said something to upset me, I'd be awfully lonely. I wouldn't even be talking to you, Mister 'I see no difference, Beaver Teeth.' Or 'Silly Girl.' Or 'Insufferable know-it-all.' Or-"

"You have quite made your point," he said in a cold and harsh voice. He stared at her slightly smug face with a frown and wondered aloud, "If they have been so awful to you, then they cannot be who you see yourself with. What are you looking for in the pestle to your mortar?"

My, wasn't he being inquisitive tonight? "Since you all have been so awful, you mean? And how astute to assume _I_ would be the one needing grinded and not the one doing the grinding, Professor. But, to answer you, 'all I want is a plain man. All I want is a modest man, a quiet man, a gentle man. A straightforward and honest man to sit with me in a cottage somewhere in the state of Iowa,'" she sang lightly.

He looked confused. "You wish to move to the States?"

Snape was disconcerted when she laughed merrily. "No, it's just the words of a song. Hogsmeade would be fine. Or even just being here, in the castle."

"And the rest of the song?" he inquired.

"Will have to wait until next time. I'll plan on some Broadway. That is, if you don't mind my continuing to sing as well as play?" she asked him with a cringe. Hermione Granger knew her strengths, but she did not consider this to be one of them.

He quietly shook his head. No, he didn't mind at all.

"You'll let me know if it changes your sleep pattern? It's important for you to rest well, sir."

"Yes, Miss Granger. I'll tell you."

She smiled at him. Why was it so easy for her to smile at him? "Good, I'm glad. I'm sorry, I haven't even asked how you've been."

He silently questioned her, but she was genuinely curious about his welfare.

"It's been about a month and a half. Are you still sleeping well?" she asked again.

"I am on the nights I am here, yes. It seems to extend to the following few nights before the sleeplessness returns."

"I'm afraid I didn't get much playing done tonight. I'm not busy this week, so just remember that that Galleon works both ways. If you ever need me, just let me know."

He nodded his understanding.

He watched her stand and grab her bag by the piano. Bidding him goodnight, she left the room.

Cursing himself for the intimate way he was thinking of her, Snape picked up the nearest teacup – hers – and flung it against the wall.

~~HGSS~~

The next morning found Hermione staring resolutely into her cauldron – to avoid looking at the professor. They weren't brewing yet but had been split into tables to listen to the lecture and take notes.

"As you grind the asphodel…"

Her professor's voice was not nearly as captivating in the classroom as it was beside the fireside and her piano. It was still interesting, of course, but the stern color to the otherwise stoic timbre made it less familiar and engaging.

Her table of four included Harry, Draco, and Pansy. She ran through the conversation from the night before to make sure she hadn't said anything to earn this punishment, but alas, it appeared as though she and Harry had just drawn the short straw.

Pansy and Draco were making short remarks under their breath as the professor walked past.

"One hair from a goat must be used precisely after the asphodel is added…"

"Hear that, Potter? He said you can pluck one of your hairs to use after the asphodel," said Draco.

Pansy piped in, "But if we need horse hair as well, we'll just ask, Granger."

Harry and Hermione both glanced at each other with disdain for their table companions before going back to taking notes.

Well, Hermione went back to taking notes. Harry went back to not paying attention.

Snape was not ignorant of the taunting at the corner table. He could not, however, under any circumstances, show favoritism to any student who was not in Slytherin. No matter how much she meant to him.

It would be disastrous for the Dark Lord to hear of his budding intimacy with a Gryffindor. It would be equally disastrous for that Gryffindor to find out about his change of heart towards her. Kind-hearted as she was, Snape did not believe that that extended towards romantic feelings for a man who was useless in all things except war and Potions.

Considering that she was fairly adept at both of those herself, his handsome face and charming demeanor were not going to be what it took to win the heart of Hermione Granger.

But, by placing her with her two least favorite classmates, he had ensured that she would question his motives and his opinion of her. And if he was lucky, there would be some argument he would have to break up, and he could take house points as well, to tarnish himself further in her eyes, just in case.

Professor Snape hated to do it. He truly hated to make her think less of him. He could do that well enough just by being Severus Snape. Why was it he was always forced to hurt the ones he cared about?

However, thus far this morning, Hermione and Potter were exhibiting extraordinarily careful restraint. Perhaps Hermione realized that this was a delicate potion. Or perhaps they were just maturing and becoming resistant to such juvenile tactics as mockery by their neighbors. Either way, her conduct was admirable. Potter, he could see, was ignoring him as usual, as well as his tablemates, planning to get the information from Hermione later. How like his father.

Snape walked over to start interrogating him about the lecture when he heard Miss Parkinson's quill break.

Pansy realized she didn't have an extra quill and had a moment of panic before she remembered whose class she was in. But even without getting into trouble, she was now unable to take notes. She looked questioningly to Draco who shook his head negatively. She began a pointless search through her bag for a new quill when she saw one being handed to her.

By Hermione.

Hermione was giving the girl a glare for so obviously being unprepared, having taken a new quill from the bunch she kept in her pack, all secured in a spare hair elastic.

Pansy took the quill and made sure Professor Snape was watching as she dipped it into the ink and wrote an experimental line. Ensuring it wasn't jinxed, she snottily told Hermione, "I guess we know which one of us is the nerd," and went back to taking notes.

Hermione just glared at her for a second longer before going back to her parchment.

After class, she was packing up when she heard, "Miss Granger. A word."

Her shoulders slumped. She had upset him.

The class left the room as she made her way to the front, feeling like a salmon swimming upstream. Certainly no one else was staying after class to chat.

Snape made sure the room was empty before he looked at her coldly. "Miss Granger, why did you assist Miss Parkinson in class today?"

"She needed a quill, sir."

"I am aware of that, impertinent girl. I am also aware of her and Mister Malfoy's conduct towards you and Mister Potter during this class. You could have left her floundering as she certainly would have left you."

"She needed a quill, sir," Hermione repeated," and I had one. So I gave it to her. That's it. Just because she is rude to me doesn't mean she didn't need a quill."

His mind boggling, he dismissed her.

~~HGSS~~

Hermione walked across the lawn to Hagrid's, trying not to think about her confusing conversation with Professor Snape. She really just wanted some time to think, so she wasn't as displeased as she could have been when Hagrid asked her to help him groom…well, whatever these were.

She listened with one ear as Hagrid told her how lucky he was to have Professor McGonagall as a headmistress. He had been afraid after Dumbledore had passed that he would lose his job. Hermione reflected that he was actually quite knowledgeable when it came to the higher-level classes, and even his lower classes had improved after a rough beginning.

"Hagrid?" she asked suddenly. "What do you think of Professor Snape?"

The change of subject not fazing him in the least, he told her promptly, "Why, bravest man there ever was. I've brought 'im back up to the castle loads of times after…," he whispered to her, "You-Know-Who was through wit' 'im. But blimey, if he don't go back every time he gets called. You're no' gonna say nuthin', are ya, Hermione?"

"No, Hagrid. I won't say anything."

"I know he didn't wan' ta kill Dumbledore. Heard 'im talkin' about it meself, I did. But he's loyal, and a good man, jus' a bit misunderstood, like my Fwoopers here."

Hermione looked down at the pink bird she was grooming and at the other differently colored birds in the pen. Their wings had been clipped so that they couldn't fly off, and they looked like a cross between a chicken and a parakeet.

"What's wrong with Fwoopers?"

"Their song will drive ya mad. That's why they ain't singin'. Got ta have a Silencin' Charm on'm."

"Good to know," said Hermione as she continued to groom the curious pink bird with a little more caution.

"But their quills are some of the best ya can buy, and they're right pretty to look at. Never judge a book by its cover, Hermione."

"No, Hagrid. I never do."

Hermione finished up her work with the Fwoopers and politely had a cup of too-strong tea with Hagrid before heading back to the castle for dinner.

Harry had apparently told Ron about Potions earlier because she was greeted in the Great Hall with: "You need to stop being so nice to people, Hermione. What did the git say to you now?"

"Well, if you must know," she told him shortly, "he accosted me in the Great Hall and told me I needed to stop being so nice to people, I assume after my other best friend told him what happened in Potions."

"Why was Harry talking to Snape?" asked a confused Ron as Ginny gave the back of his head a swat.

"Harry didn't. I did. And all that the professor wanted to know was why I gave her a quill. That's it. He was probably just surprised I didn't act like Pansy and charm it to misspell everything."

Ginny and Hermione walked up to the dorm after finishing their dinner, with the plan of Hermione tutoring Ginny a bit in Charms.

Ginny walked into the room and sat on Hermione's bed. She grabbed something off Hermione's bed stand and, with a quizzical look, showed Hermione the gift that had been smuggled into her room.

Four new, perfect, Fwooper quills.

**Teaser:** Hermione was interrupted by a small voice behind her.


	12. Chapter 12

**Author's Note: **Hope you all enjoy this chapter. Little nervous about posting, but I love it so I hope you do too. Just coming off a wonderful weekend at the Motor City ComiCon. First time out in a costume (Star Wars) for me, good times had by all!

**Playlist: Note:** Some of these videos will NOT work for you. Terribly sorry, but blame YouTube. However, they are popular enough I daresay you will know them. They should be somewhere on YouTube. If they aren't, please email me.

http:/ /www. youtube. com/watch?v=x1PIkFQ_Zc0&feature=PlayList&p=8410EB2F302C3CA6&playnext_from=PL&index=0&playnext=1

**Chapter Twelve**

Hermione sat in Defense Against the Dark Arts, tapping one long, perfect quill on the corner of her desk. Professor Tonks – or just Tonks as the woman preferred to be called – was an interesting lecturer, but Hermione was feeling restless.

She was taking notes and listening, but she was not paying complete attention as usual. Ron leaned over and she heard him whisper, "Is that a Fwooper quill?"

"Yes, Ron. Pay attention," she whispered back fiercely.

"But, blimey, Hermione. Those are expensive!"

"I didn't buy it. Pay attention!"

"Well, who got it for you?"

"Shh! They were just placed in my room, Ron. I don't know by whom. I was helping Hagrid with them. Maybe it was him. Now listen!"

Ron answered her disbelievingly, "But, Hermione-"

"Mister Weasley, Miss Granger?" Tonks asked. "Anything you'd like to share with the rest of us?"

Tonks was a lenient professor, but she still asked for respect in the classroom. She wouldn't sentence them to detention with Filch, but she would call them on their behavior.

"No, Professor," they both said in unison.

Tonks shook her head, more out of exasperation at being treated so formally than because of their actual behavior.

A moment passed, and Hermione was becoming interested in the lecture when she heard from her other side, "Hermione!"

She turned to Harry, clearly vexed, and whispered back to him, "What?"

"What did Ron want?"

"Oh, for goodness sake!" Hermione exclaimed aloud. "Tonks, can I move?"

Stifling a laugh at the frustrated girl, Tonks waved at a chair and gave the harried girl her consent before turning to the boys and telling them, "I'll expect you two about seven tonight to help me brew doxy antivenin for the third years' lesson tomorrow, yeah?"

Both boys bowed their heads as Hermione grabbed her books and sat a few chairs away.

After class, she stormed up to the boys.

"How could you be so rude! Honestly, was the mystery of the quill so important it couldn't wait until after class? It's a quill, Ronald."

"Well, yeah, but you've never had one that fancy 'cuz you chew the ends off, and I just figured maybe it was a gift from a bloke, you know? Maybe some guy who doesn't know you that well, and then you said they just appeared, and I got to thinkin' about my sister, and her journal, and how it just appeared."

Hermione let out a sigh as she walked out of the room, both boys following. "I appreciate your concern, but it still could have waited until class was finished. I don't know where they came from, but they were intended for me. I found them after dinner a few days ago sitting on my bed stand, tied with a ribbon. Maybe one of the girls got me an early Christmas gift."

"Hermione, its November," said Harry.

"Okay, then a very early Christmas gift. I have no admirers, I promise."

"Well, maybe you do and just didn't notice," said Ron.

"Me? Not notice?" Hermione asked.

"Good point," Harry agreed. "Maybe Hagrid left them as a thank you."

Hermione steered their path to the Great Hall as they continued their talk. "That's what I said, but he doesn't think that's possible."

Their argument went back and forth as the three of them entered the hall. Lorrell and Ginny both turned their heads at her exclamation: "You know what? Fine! Here! Here is one for each of you. Now go find out if they are hexed, or charmed, or if they came from Argus Filch, or just use them to write your own bloody History of Magic essays! I don't care! I can buy more if I want, but I like these, and I don't care where they came from, and they have been writing just fine, so if you will excuse me, I would like to get some lunch!"

With that, Hermione stormed to the table and sat between Ginny and Lorrell, leaving the boys to sit on the outsides.

The lunch table was quiet in the wake of her wrath, and Hermione was intent on staring holes into her food. For all her typical awareness, she did not see the man watching her from the Head Table.

He was careful to be discreet, but the danger of being caught didn't stop him from assuaging his curiosity.

They were both still in the Great Hall when Hermione felt her Galleon get warm. Carrying it in her jeans pocket had become second nature to her, but this was the first time she hadn't instigated a conversation. Curious, she pulled it out, keeping it hidden by the table.

_Tonight, 7pm, same place?_

Ginny noticed her friend reading something under the table and could see the smile on her face. "Is that from, you know, _him_?" she asked, with a nod to the Head Table.

Hermione nodded and responded.

_I'll bring the sandwiches._

To anyone else, it would have appeared as though Professor Snape was looking at a watch in his pocket. But anyone who noticed would have wondered why he was smirking at a watch.

_This is so weird,_ thought Hermione. _I am having decent conversations with my professor. More than that, I am having intellectual discourse with Professor Snape, of all people. He doesn't even like students, especially friends of Harry_.

Not one to argue with fate – outside of Divination – Hermione left to join her friends outside in the cold November afternoon.

~~HGSS~~

That evening, Hermione found herself slightly nervous before heading to the Room of Requirement. Chastising herself for being ridiculous, she ran her fingers through her chestnut brown hair and made a face at herself in the mirror.

She surveyed herself critically. Pale skin, unblemished besides a slight freckling of her nose. She had large brown eyes, but her features were not disproportionate. In all, she was satisfied with her appearance.

Okay, so her hair was everywhere, and she had no derriere to speak of, but she couldn't complain really. Some men were bound to prefer books and cleverness.

Tilting her chin defiantly at the mirror, Hermione picked up her bag and left the room. She waved goodbye to Ginny and Neville before exiting out of the portrait hole and heading down the tower.

She was pleased to find that she had arrived first. She summoned Dobby, who just appeared with what she usually asked for rather than having to make a second trip.

Perhaps this was becoming a habit.

They hadn't met in almost two weeks, and Hermione knew her fingers were getting the same feeling they did when she hadn't read in a while. The fingertips itched to feel the smooth keys like they longed for the coarse parchment pages.

She considered the fact that she could come up here without him but found she didn't really want to. It just wasn't the same now. It felt lonely. Hermione had been accurate with what she had felt the last time she had been with him. He was her friend now.

And Heaven forbid she should ever have to tell that to Ron and Harry. _Hi Harry! Hi Ron! Severus is going to come with us to Hogsmeade!_ Hermione groaned just thinking about it. Better to keep things how they were. The boys by day, Severus by night, otherwise it would just become absurd.

Hermione's legs were draped over the arm of her chair when Professor Snape walked in. He gave her a bored, disdainful look, but she knew better and knew he didn't mind coming or he wouldn't have asked her here.

For amusement, she asked him, "Have you changed your mind, Professor?"

He took in the beautiful young woman laid so nonchalantly over the chair, as though she had not a care in the world, even though he knew that to be false. She was sitting there waiting for him, like being with him was the most important thing in her evening. "No, Miss Granger. I have not. I suppose appointments made must be kept." He sniffed the air casually before asking her, "Is that how you always treat furniture?"

She swung her legs back to the ground before answering. "No, sir. Just transfigured furniture. I figure it doesn't mind."

He gave her a curious look before taking his own seat.

"So, Broadway tonight?" she asked.

"If that is still your preference. I know not if it will be mine."

"I doubt it," she answered honestly. "But, at least you can say you tried."

"Indeed." After a pause, he asked her in what he hoped was an offhand manner, "Were you going to continue your song from last week?"

"Oh," she said, blushing a little, "I can do that. I have a few others I could perform too, if you want the answer to the question."

"If you care to proffer a response," he said carefully, hoping she couldn't see the truth. Yes, he really did want to hear her answer, even if it was just to keep him in his place and remind him that she would never want the same as he.

Sliding into her favorite spot, Hermione told him, "Well, I suppose that in order to fully answer what I'm looking for in my mortar, as you called it, it would be best to explain what I want out of life as a whole." (1)

She began a brisk tune before singing, "'Can you imagine? He asked me to marry him. Me? The wife of that boorish, brainless...Madame Gaston, can't you just see it? Madame Gaston, his little wife.'"

Professor Snape did not know who this Gaston was but was pleased to note he himself could not be called boorish or brainless.

"'No, sir, not me. I guarantee it. I want much more then this provincial life,'" she continued. "'I want adventure in the great wide somewhere. I want it more than I can tell, and for once, it might be grand  
to have someone understand. I want so much more than they've got planned.'"

She finished playing the short tune and told him, "I don't want to be someone's trophy wife. I'm not a Narcissa Malfoy. I want to create a name for myself and be an equal partner with my husband. I don't believe either should walk behind the other but side by side. I think that is one reason why I couldn't be happy with Ron. He grew up with a wonderful mother whose only ambition was to stay at home with her children. And that's perfectly fine. I want children too, but I am still Miss K.I.A. Granger, and I won't be content to sit at home."

"Kia?" he asked.

She snorted. "Kia. Know. It. All. That one is thanks to you, by the way. Ron and Harry thought they were being sooo witty."

He thought that over. Teachers did not always realize how they were impacting their students' lives. He had hated his nickname as a child, and he hoped this one did not bother her. It didn't appear to.

"So, anyway," she said awkwardly. "That's where I am coming from. But as far as what I am looking for…" (2)

She played a few notes and sang, "'There's a saying old, says that love is blind. Still we're often told seek and ye shall find, so I'm going to seek a certain man I've had in mind. Looking everywhere, haven't found him yet. He's the big affair I cannot forget. Only man I ever think of with regret.'"

Professor Snape listened to the words the young woman was singing. Whoever she was looking for, it appeared she was still looking. It would never be him, but he was comforted knowing he wouldn't have to catch her snogging in the halls like Weasley. Perhaps it was that Durmstrang boy she had accompanied to the Yule Ball.

"'I'd like to add his initials to my monogram. Tell me, where is the shepherd for this lost lamb?'"

Hermione paused as she heard him snort in the chair. Well, she didn't exactly agree with that part either, but it wouldn't be terrible to have a man who could take care of her. If she needed it, of course, not that she would. "Lost lion, perhaps, Professor?"

"Better," he replied.

"'There's a somebody I'm longing to see. I hope that he turns out to be someone to watch over me,'" she sang. "'I'm a little…lion who's lost in the wood. I know I could always be good to one who'll watch over me.'" She heard his snort from the chair and ignored him this time. Just because she hadn't behaved herself with the utmost propriety didn't mean she couldn't.

"'Although he may not be the man some girls think of as handsome to my heart he carries the key,'" she sang with obvious emotion, missing the little glimmer of hope in the eyes of her companion. Hermione was looking for someone to be the yin to her yang, the binding to her pages. She did not want some Cedric Diggory, rest his soul, or Victor Krum. She didn't care if he had wild hair or funny ears or Snape's teeth.

"'Won't you tell him please to put on some speed? Follow my lead. Oh, how I need someone to watch over me.'" Her voice lingered as the last notes filled the room. What she lacked in training, she made up for in passion, and it was evident that this song was personal to her. She finished singing before she spoke, "And no, I do not need a fierce protector, although someone to guide me a bit would be preferable, just as I would expect him to ask my opinion on important matters."

She raised her chin defiantly for the second time that evening and was pleased when he neither laughed at her nor scolded her. "I don't want a man who is solid muscle like Viktor Krum, or some vapid, pretty boy. Much more important are his intelligence, mannerisms, and conduct," she told him decidedly. God, she sounded like a Jane Austen novel.

"Here, let me finish my last song on this subject. The song from yesterday is called 'My White Knight' from _The Music Man_. It's ironic, really, that all the things the girl sings about are not in the man they pair her with. I guess even writers can be wrong sometimes."

She was very pretty like this, lecturing from her piano, in her element in a way that did not obscure her face with books. Her posture was straight, and her confidence showed in a way that was evident to anyone who had ever been on the receiving end of one of her lectures – which was pretty much just about everyone.

She sang with a calm serenity, sure in both her notes and the words of the song. Once Hermione Granger came to a decision, there was no looking back, and after Ron, she had a clearer vision of what she wanted in a life partner. (3) "'My white knight, not a Lancelot, nor an angel with wings. Just someone to love me, who is not ashamed of a few nice things. My white knight who knew what my heart would say if it only knew how. Please, dear Venus, show me now.'"

He was intrigued now. He was surprised she wasn't looking for some Quidditch idol or cocky but brilliant rising star, despite her words.

"'All I want is a plain man. All I want is a modest man, a quiet man, a gentle man. A straightforward and honest man to sit with me in a cottage somewhere in the state of Iowa.'"

Well, five out of six wasn't bad, he figured. He could work on being gentle…perhaps. Probably not.

"'And I would like him to be more interested in me than he is in himself.'"

That was easy.

"'And more interested in us than in me.'"

Hmm.

"'And if occasionally he'd ponder what made Shakespeare and Beethoven great, him I could love 'til I die. Him I could love 'til I die.'"

So she was someone who preferred brains over brawn. He really shouldn't be surprised, yet he was. Snape could certainly see why she wished to no longer be with Weasley, but that didn't mean someone like Potter didn't fit her better.

Why was he even pondering this? Such a frivolous waste of his time. He had bigger things to worry about than the yearnings of some _girl_. He had no time for such things, for they were not his lot in life. He must concern himself with the Dark Lord, and keeping his students in line, and keeping Potter safe, and…

He attentively listened to the rest of her song.

"'My white knight, not a Lancelot, nor an angel with wings. Just someone to love me, who is not ashamed of a few nice things. My white knight, let me walk with him where others ride by, walk and love him 'til I die, 'til I die.'"

Hermione was slightly breathless by the time she finished, the end of the song requiring a great deal of breath support from someone sitting at a piano. Her small chest heaved slightly as she gave him an embarrassed little grin.

"I know," she said. "Silly little girl, but you asked."

He said nothing, just cocked his head, not really knowing how to respond. It wasn't everyday he held a conversation with a woman about her desires, nor was it commonplace for him to discuss his own.

After an uncomfortable silence, she told him, "Speaking of white knights, I, um, brought something to show you. Harry and Ron have never even seen it. Well, Ron has, I suppose, but not since I've changed it. It's, well, here. I'll just show you."

She pulled out a wooden case from her pack and opened it with her back turned to him. After a moment, she stepped back, and he saw what she had on display.

A chess set. A simple wizarding chess set.

He raised his brow at her in question, and she simply smirked at him before explaining.

"Ron insisted that I needed to learn to enjoy Wizard's Chess, just as he tried to increase my appreciation for Quidditch. I believe that it's absolutely barbaric, but he bought me a set anyway for Christmas last year. So, I used my Charms skills and-"

Hermione was interrupted by a small voice behind her. (4)

"'Love is a many splendored thing; love lifts us up where we belong. All you need is love!'"

Hermione, in an exasperated tone of voice, turned to the chess set and attempted to shush the voice. "Please, don't start that again. I'm serious, I-"

"'All you need is love!'" said the little figure.

"No! I'm so sorry, Professor. He just gets like this sometimes, and-"

"'All you need is love!'"

"You need to learn to be quiet. This is not the time or-"

"'All you need is looove!'"

Hermione sighed and sat at the piano. "'Love is just a game.'"

Professor Snape realized the little chess pieces had instruments as he heard music pick up and the little white king sing, "'I was made for loving you, baby, you were made for loving me.'"

"'The only way of loving me, baby, is to pay a lovely fee,'" Hermione responded with a giggle.

Snape nearly choked on his tea. Young Miss Granger was a prostitute? No. That could not be. This must be her singing the song, like her tune about the girl with flaxen hair when she was clearly a brunette. This was Granger – overeager, innocent bookworm.

"'Just one night, give me just one night,'" the king pleaded.

Hermione taunted him back. "'There's no way 'cause you can't pay.'"

"'In the name of love! One night in the name of love!'"

"'You crazy fool,'" Hermione told him. "'I won't give in to you.'"

The king dramatically dropped to his knees, hands held before him as if in prayer. "'Don't…leave me this way. I can't survive without your sweet love. Oh, baby, don't leave me this way.'"

She was still trying to suppress a giggle at the little figure. "'You'd think that people would've had enough of silly love songs...'"

Snape listened to the two banter back and forth. This was one of the most bizarre exchanges he had ever heard. She had somehow enchanted the chess set into being a small orchestra and choir. It was an amazing display of Charms. Snape didn't want to contemplate the number of hours it must have taken her. Then he tuned back in to hear the White King singing.

"'Cause here I go... again! Love lifts us up where we belong! Where eagles fly on a mountain high!'"

Hermione took the king's little hands in hers and sang, "'Love makes us act like we are fools. Throw our lives away for one happy day.'"

"'We could be heroes…'" sang the king. "'Just for one day.'"

"'You…you will be mean,'" said Hermione with a pout.

Snape was completely involved, sitting on the edge of his seat, and shook his head in disagreement as the king said, "'No, I won't!'"

Hermione signed and said, "'And I, I'll drink all the time.'"

At this, Professor Snape outwardly scoffed.

"'We should be lovers...'" the white king belted.

She pretended to be scandalized and said, "'We can't do that.'"

The king repeated, "'We should be lovers! And that's a fact.'"

"'Though nothing,'" she said, "'would keep us together.'"

"'We could steal time...'" said the piece.

"'Just for one day,'" they sang together. "'We could be heroes forever and ever. We could be heroes forever and ever! We can be heroes...'"

Snape watched the little king on his knees on the piano before the witch, who held his little hands in her fingertips. He felt like taking a long walk off a short cliff after realizing that this charmed, stone chess piece had gotten farther with her than he had.

"'Just because I...will always love you...'" sang the king, and Snape heard Hermione repeat the beginning back to him.

The two singers looked at each other and sang, "'I can't help loving you.'"

Hermione finished, looking at the chess piece, then blushed as she looked at her professor. "'How wonderful life is now you're in the world...'"

Snape watched the young woman with her honey brown eyes, his own of black diamond. Was she singing to him or singing _to_ him?

He was startled to hear a small pawn behind them suddenly belt out on one knee with his arms held high over his head, "'Evviva! La forza dell'amor!'"

The set finished the music, and Snape saw that Hermione was profoundly embarrassed. "I'm _so_ sorry, Professor. As you can see, I used charms to teach them to play instruments and sing. They don't talk at all, but they can communicate. I just didn't think it was right to make them fight all the time, and they seem to be pleased with the new arrangement. I often take them out and sing or play with them, but apparently I've been neglecting them this year. We're rather informal with each other, but I will have to have a chat with them about proper conduct in front of guests," she said, giving the king a meaningful look. "They spent the summer with me, so they have become quite adept at Muggle music and movies."

"They can play a full orchestra?" he asked disbelievingly.

"Yes, sir. Or a full choir."

"Show me."

She spoke to the chess set softly and then went to sit in the chair beside him. He watched a little pawn come forward with a baton to conduct.

She looked at him and said gleefully, "Professor Snape, the Granger Chamber Orchestra is proud to present _Eine Kleine Nachtmusik_ by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart." (5)

The pawn raised his baton to silence the group, and then they began the spirited and somewhat familiar piece. This was one he might have actually heard before. Well, the beginning at least.

He hated to admit it, even if only to himself, but he was terribly impressed with her Charms work. The orchestra was finely tuned and synchronized. His ear was untrained, but he could hear no discernable flaws in the performance. He was watching the pieces when he noticed how the singing king kept peeking out around the piece in front of him to look at Hermione. Did it have…feelings for the witch? That was preposterous.

Hermione was surreptitiously watching Snape out of the corner of her eye, hoping for some small sign that he was impressed. As usual, he gave none. However, he did not talk or insult her or her work, so she would take what she could get.

As the music played on, she leaned over and told him a little about the piece and the era in which it was written. She was constantly astonished that he was willing to listen, but she tried not to press her luck by babbling on. It was hard though, her words fueled by both her nervousness and her passion for the subject.

They made small talk for part of the piece, and for the rest, they were content to listen. It wasn't often that Hermione just heard them play without playing with them, and Snape had never been in the presence of such a full orchestra – even if it was Lilliputian.

The song ended, and Hermione gave them a hearty round of applause. Professor Snape, well, he watched Hermione give them a hearty round of applause and considered that good enough.

He expected them to begin another song, but apparently they had another idea in mind. He watched them all gather around the edge of the piano by the keys and take a seat. He could see Hermione was almost sweating with embarrassment.

"It appears as though they have decided it's time to call it a night and that bedtime rituals will not be suspended by your presence," she told him.

"Rituals?" he asked. If she started tucking the pieces into their box, he would be convinced she had lost her magical mind.

"Yes, sir. I usually play at night in the common room after rounds and then head to bed. So we have a sort of routine for the end of the night. I'll just go do my part and then explain more, if you care to hear it and don't think I'm insane."

She went back to her piano with another pointed look at the pocket-sized pieces. Taking a deep breath and rolling her shoulders, she reclaimed her earlier relaxed mood and began a sort of lullaby with a simple and lilting melody. (6) "'Goodnight, my someone. Goodnight, my love. Sleep tight, my someone. Sleep tight, my love. Our star is shining its brightest light for goodnight, my love, for goodnight.'"

She sang to the pieces as a mother would sing to her children in bed. He was half surprised she didn't conjure them little blankets and cups of water before beginning.

"'Sweet dreams be yours, dear,'" she sang, tapping a little pawn on its nose, "'if dreams there be. Sweet dreams to carry you close to me. I wish they may, and I wish they might. Now goodnight, my someone, goodnight.'"

And who exactly was she singing to? Was this the song for her and Weasley? If so, he did not care to hear it. Of course he wasn't jealous. It was merely…improper for him to be witnessing this sort of…saccharine sentimentality.

"'True love can be whispered from heart to heart when lovers are parted they say,'" she continued.

He exhaled a soft huff. If she was hoping that Weasley was going to return, she might as well hope for a victory for the Chudley Cannons as well.

"'But I must depend on a wish and a star as long as my heart doesn't know who you are.'"

Doesn't know? She didn't know who she was singing to?

"'Sweet dreams be yours, dear, if dreams there be. Sweet dreams to carry you close to me. I wish they may and I wish they might. Now goodnight, my someone, goodnight. Goodnight, goodnight.'"

The little pieces were now softly yawning. A few were leaning over onto the lap or shoulder of their neighbor, and Hermione gently lifted them into their box, drawing out the time before she spoke to him again. Possibly hoping he would forget.

He didn't.

"And the ritual is because…?" he asked.

She sighed and talked to him over her shoulder as she put them away. "Up in Gryffindor Tower, in the common room, there is a window that points north. From there you can see Polaris. When I was little, that was my Evening Star. Normally, people refer to Venus, but my parents were pragmatists and preferred me to set my wishes on something that was more constant. As you know, from here, the North Star is always visible. Anyway," she said, turning back to him with all the pieces snug but now attentive, "when I became older, I would ask my mum about the man I was going to marry, being the overly sentimental, silly girl I am. She used to tell me that even though I didn't know who he was, that didn't mean I couldn't wish him well, wherever he was. Am I boring you yet?"

He feigned perfect indifference. "A bit. But carry on," he said with a wave of his arm.

"Okay, well, when I started singing with my chess set, I would close the night with that song since we could see Polaris. It's the star I used to wish on, and it's a binary star. I suppose the logical side of my brain appreciates the symmetry of two stars orbiting each other. In Hindu mythology, the star is named Dhruva, meaning fixed. If I am going to set the hopes of my future husband on something, I want it to be fixed and stable, steady and constant. I am not someone who enjoys participating in drama. In Finnish mythology, Polaris is called Taivaanneula, or Heaven's Needle. They believed it was the pillar supporting the heavens. I want my husband and myself to be the pillars supporting our marriage, our own personal bit of heaven. See? Now aren't you regretting you asked?"

"A little. Do you always have such complex reasoning for everything?"

"Pretty much," she answered honestly. "I was the girl with her crayons sorted according to the color spectrum. Nothing is too little to escape my anal retentiveness. And so, even though I have no idea who my future someone will be, I can still bid them goodnight and sweet dreams. Hopefully, whoever they are, they know someone is thinking about them."

"I see," he remarked.

During this exchange, the pieces had been peeking over the edge of the box, especially the white king. He was not at all pleased with the way this man, this mixture of white and black, was looking at his Hermione. Not pleased at all. Obviously, something had to be done.

When Professor Snape left the room that evening, neither he nor Hermione noticed that her chess set was one piece shy.

Snape walked at a slow pace down the long path to his chambers. He swore she had picked the furthest room from where he resided.

As he walked the cold and dim hallway, absentmindedly looking for misbehaving students, he was compelled to mull over the information he had gleaned from the evening.

Hermione had just been a student, albeit a brilliant student, when he had first encountered her in the bookstore that day. But something had changed since then. He knew things about her now he doubted she told anyone. She was not afraid to cry in front of him or laugh because of him. She did not shy from his touch, or his humor, or his moods. She was kind to those around her, even when she knew her kindness would not be returned.

She was a bossy, brilliant bookworm. She was a bastion of bullheadedness and benevolence.

She drove him to alliteration.

And he loved her.

**Teaser:** _Then he poked his head in the room to see the two in a passionate embrace exchanging words of love._


	13. Chapter 13

**Author's Note: **Many thanks to shuldham for the BP and to Liongirl, for getting this to me even though her dog broke his leg. Best of wishes to Max.

If you like this, or don't like this, please let me know. I love to read them, both the good, the bad, and the ugly. (Though the ugly get posted on Facebook for friends to laugh at. ;) )

**Playlist: **http: //www .youtube .com/watch?v=H4udDjFlrzc&feature=PlayList&p=7B5E92030B58FD96&playnext_from=PL&index=0&playnext=1

**Chapter Thirteen**

Hermione slowly opened her eyes, looked around her, and rejoiced.

It was Sunday morning, she had gotten to sleep in past seven in the morning, and she was the last one in bed.

She rolled over to grab a novel, enjoying the quiet room with the rare winter sunlight coming in, shining off the snow. Hermione snuggled under the quilt stolen from the Black family home.

She hadn't really thought about her blanket being from the Black family home before. She supposed Sirius must have had a few happy relatives at some point. She knew it was a double wedding ring design, and the pastel rings with the tea rose pattern stood out on the cream background. She wasn't positive what had compelled her to take it with her, but she was very glad she did. She felt a little like Linus from Peanuts, but at least she didn't carry the blanket around with her.

Hermione's mind wandered away from her book and on to the man who had thrown the quilt over her. He had become quite the enigma lately. Sometimes surly, sometimes kind. She had spoken more with him in the past two months than she had in the previous six years of their acquaintance. In fact, Hermione was willing to bet that any one night they met encompassed more words.

She thought about spending the afternoon with Ginny and telling the girl everything. But she literally could not imagine herself telling Ginny that she had made Snape smile and he had brought her roses and she had held his hand – twice. And she had hugged him too! And teased! And even flirted with him. A little.

Hermione felt a chill run through her, even still wrapped in her blanket. Had she really flirted with her professor?

She kind of had, hadn't she? Just a little though. And she could not believe she had told him what kind of guy she was looking for! And why had he wanted to know? It's not like he was interested.

…Right?

Right. He couldn't possibly be interested in a student. Honestly, she was so far beneath him she wondered if he even fully registered that she was female. He might give that intense and charged look to anyone who performed for him.

That sounded naïve, even to her.

Okay, so he had probably figured out she was female, but she was still only seventeen and friends with Harry and a Gryffindor and Kia and bossy and Muggle-born and, well, just Hermione Granger in general. She didn't really attract the opposite sex, especially men like him.

And why would she want to? He was only…only…

She sighed. Only pretty much everything she had told him she was looking for.

How had _that_ happened?

She wanted someone who was smart. Someone honest, caring, steady, and loyal. She did not want someone who put their worth into looks or sports. Hermione wanted a man who saw the value in knowledge and could understand when she forgot to eat because the book she was reading was _that_ good. She wanted to snuggle on the couch with cocoa and spend the night inside. She didn't want to be out and about all the time. She wasn't terribly social and wasn't the party type.

She wanted to be her own person, not just Mrs. Whomever. She needed a person who would not mind her wanting to make a name for herself, even just here at Hogwarts, and didn't mind her occasionally fiery temper.

In short, Hermione wanted her professor.

She sat up straight in bed, book falling to the floor.

She felt silly. It _was_ silly. Really, it was. How many other students had had a crush on him at one point or another? Probably all the time. He was dark, mysterious. The brooding, tragic, and unobtainable figure. He was a challenge, and he was safe. No one ever had to worry about being hit on by a professor. Especially that professor.

But he had brought Hermione flowers. And when she had mulled over the strange conversation with him as well, possibly quills. He sought out her company and chatted with her. They actually just had chats. And he had responded to her sort of flirting (she had not flirted with Professor Snape!) outside of the joke shop.

Hermione felt faint. Her breathing was coming in quick gasps. She could not believe it. It had come on so slowly over the past few months. When had he crossed the line from curmudgeon to friend to…to…to whatever he was now?

But now that her heart was actually communicating with her brain, she could not deny it. She found aspects of him quite simply attractive. To her, at least.

She had already admitted she liked the spot on his nose. Hermione was fairly certain that was a quirk known only to her. She loved that he was tall, and the pianist in her noticed the confidence in his hands. His hair was thick and as dark as his eyes.

She remembered the brief hug she gave him, feeling his body beneath his robes. In that one tight squeeze, she had felt his strong arms and torso, and she had had a happy moment picturing him sweeping her off her feet and walking off with her. Hermione didn't want someone with a rock hard Quidditch body, and she had a feeling she wouldn't find that with him, but he definitely had a bit of steel.

And…he wasn't ginger.

Hermione flopped backwards into her pillows in exasperation. She was definitely interested in her Potions professor.

Well, it was not like he was about to profess his undying love for her, so she wasn't going to worry about it. And if he happened to pop into her mind at certain…intimate moments of her day, well, oh well. They were called fantasies for a reason, and she was sure there were kinkier people than ones who imagined a mysterious man dressed all in black, who swept into the room with a burning, hungry gaze and undressed you slowly, before pulling up the piano bench and-

Alright, she needed to get out of this bed right now, or she wasn't going to do anything that day, and she had already promised to meet Harry later.

The Great Hall was buzzing when she entered, everyone else apparently having had a lie-in as well. Sitting at the table, she noticed that it wasn't just the typical noise of students milling in the hall. They appeared to be having intense conversation. Leaning over to Ginny, she asked, "Okay, what happened?"

"There was another attack last night," Ron told her. "The Daily Prophet had an article. Doubt we'd even know if one of the victims hadn't had a Squib cousin."

Ginny nodded her head in agreement. "It looks like they left no survivors this time. About thirty people were killed. No torture as far as we can tell, just eliminated."

Hermione's breath hitched, and she instinctively looked up to the Head Table, where her surly professor was eating his breakfast. Her hands clenched and unclenched in worry. Had he been there last night? Was he one of the men who had had to murder those Muggles? How could he just calmly sit there? She would be a wreck, and she admired his fortitude.

When he glanced up to gaze over the room, Hermione practically mentally begged him to look at her, hoping that she could see the answers to her questions. When he did lock eyes on her for a moment, her eyes widened.

She hadn't quite realized the full depth of her caring for him until she could see the anguish on his face, so carefully constructed to look like disdain. But the pinch in the corners of his eyes was too tight, his mouth a bit too set. No, she didn't think he was there last night, but the concern of what this might mean for their future was still present.

It was only a little after ten in the morning, and she wasn't due to meet Harry until two. In a moment of inspiration, she used her Galleon to ask Professor Snape if he would like to meet her around one, figuring that gave her enough time before meeting with Harry. Snape readily agreed and Hermione felt her heart skip a little. It was still a little amazing to her how much time he was willing to spend with her.

Hermione was correct in assuming that Snape hadn't been at the raid the night before, but it was a very close call. Only the suggestion of McGonagall becoming suspicious let him off to return to the castle. He had told Minerva of the events about to take place, but there was no way they could manage to stop them and still keep his cover as a spy. The best they could do was alert the Squib who lived nearby.

He hadn't slept at all the night before. After he had found out about the raid, he had not been able to sit still until he had heard of the aftermath. Thirty-two dead, all Muggle, no survivors. Mostly adults, four children. Not one of them had stood a chance.

After he had heard the news, Snape had laid in his familiar bedroom, staring at the canopy over his large bed. He had rearranged his rooms at the start of the year, but he had yet to replace the furniture, and even if he did, he was not sure he would replace the bed. The green of the canopy perhaps but not the solid wood frame that had possibly been there since the start of the school itself.

The silence of the dungeon rooms had not let him forget about the events of the evening or his guilt in not preventing them. The wee hours of the morning found him patrolling the castle in such a mood that not even Peeves had bothered him.

Although he walked every hall known to him in the building, even he was slightly aware that the amount of passes he made in front of the Fat Lady was disproportionate to the time he spent elsewhere.

It was, of course, only to make sure the foolish members of the House stayed in their rooms where they belonged. It had nothing to do with protecting a certain brown-eyed young woman.

When dawn finally came, it found him once again attempting to sleep but not being successful. He was, therefore, more relieved than he would admit to receive Hermione's request. It hadn't even occurred to him to ask her, and he was grateful for her insight.

She requested they meet in the old corridor again, and he was greeted with music the moment he stepped down the hallway. (1) The music sounded familiar – from an older Muggle movie perhaps? The music was a powerful and commanding march, and he found himself walking straighter and in time to the rhythm as he advanced down the long-abandoned hallway. As he neared, he could hear furious giggling from inside the room.

He stepped inside, his face stern and his arms crossed. "And exactly what is so funny, Miss Granger?"

She took one look at his serious expression and laughed hard, unable to answer him.

He grew angry at her insolence. "What is so amusing? You can be heard halfway down the hallway. In times such as these, perhaps we should not meet so far from the center of the castle. You are unwise to lower your defenses."

Hermione had tried to pull it together. Really, she had. But his accidental quote of Darth Vader, just after she had had her chess set play the "Imperial March," was simply too much after the stress of the morning, and she was lost to her laughter. Holding her sides with tears on her cheeks, she took several minutes to calm down enough to explain.

He wasn't particularly pleased. "And you played this for me why?"

"Well, Darth Vader is a very misunderstood character who comes off as rather menacing and who dresses all in black and is known for his deep, authoritative voice. I was planning on playing American music today, and the coincidences were too much. I had to do it," she said with a giggle. "And if you could have seen your face! I'm sorry, sir, but if there is one thing I've learned from the Weasleys, it's that even in trying times, you need to have a bit of fun."

He stood in the doorway until her snickering subsided, only the faintest smirk telling her that he wasn't _really_ angry. In fact, he had seen _Star Wars_ – one of the few Muggle films he had watched after his Hogwarts graduation – and could appreciate the parallel.

She looked up at him from where she had slid to the floor and asked with hesitation, "You're not angry with me, are you?"

"No, I'm not. Now off the floor before you catch cold."

Without thinking, he offered his hand to assist Hermione off the floor. After he had clasped her small hand in his and hauled her effortlessly off the floor, there was an awkward moment before they let go together.

With a small cough, Hermione sat at her piano. "I just figured we should keep things moving around and not get too set in one room. I don't want to rely on the Room of Requirement too much, only to find that one day it decides not to open for us, but if you'd rather meet there, Professor, I don't mind."

"Wherever you choose is acceptable. Just ensure I or another staff member is always aware of your location."

"I do, sir," she told him. "I always inform you when I play."

"Good," he said.

After another moment, Hermione explained again that she had planned on doing American music. "Much of it is recent, with America being a relatively new country, but jazz and blues originated there. I also included pieces by Whitacre, Copland, Arnaud, and Gershwin. John Williams, of course, is the one who wrote the music for _Star Wars_ and is known for writing blockbuster cinema scores."

The first piece she played was "Rhapsody in Blue" by George Gershwin. (2) She explained to him in a very Hermione Granger-like manner that the piece had been written for twenty-four musicians, plus violins, so it was perfect for her little group.

She also explained that her white king was missing from the set, but she wasn't overly concerned. When Ron had purchased the set for her, it had had anti-breaking charms, as well as a Find Me charm. It couldn't go too far from its owner, and it couldn't be broken. He would turn up eventually. It wouldn't be the first time Crookshanks had decided to play Hide and Piece Seek.

Going back to the music at hand, she told him it was a classical piece with a jazz influence, shown in the instruments, as well as the score. Hermione told him it had been inspired by the sounds of the train and the town, the clang of the cities in America. He could certainly hear the bumpy ride of a train, the beeps of the horns, and the noise of the crowds.

She played the entire piece, and he soon forgot about the worry of the night before. Here in this room, everything was as it should be, and he was content.

She told him she was going to play him a piece by Aaron Copland. (3) "Appalachian Spring," she confessed, was one of her more hated pieces. There was nothing wrong with the music itself. It fact, it was as simple as it was pretty. However, she had simply heard it too often for her to get any enjoyment out of it anymore. The main melody was from a Quaker tune that was everywhere in Copland's music. However, she included it on principle as he was one of the more common American composers.

She got up from the bench and sat in the chair next to him. He sat up a little straighter as she came near.

"They don't need me for this," she explained. "And I like to listen on occasion." She smiled at him and closed her eyes to let the stately and triumphant music of Arnaud's "Bugler's Dream" wash over her. (4)

He decided to follow her example and rested his head against the back of the chair. He let the images in his mind take over. Snape saw a parade and a celebration. It was fascinating.

Hermione looked over and saw a few expressions sneak out to his face for a moment. She nibbled the inside of her lip as she just watched him. Knowing he was able to see the images of the music as she did gave her an idea.

As soon as the song was over, she moved back to the piano. He quickly opened his eyes when he heard her move. He had just been resting them, of course. He had not been following the lead of a student.

She stole his mental thunder as she told him, "No, no, keep them closed. I want to play this for you. It's called 'Ghost Train.'"(5)

Laying his head suspiciously against the chair, his eyes fluttered closed as he crossed his arms. He was lulled by the soft start to the music before jerking upright at a loud bang. His piercing glare swept the room until he realized the _chess set_ was what sounded like the train. Startled, he returned his head to the chair and gently closed his eyes.

In his mind's eye, he saw the Hogwarts Express leave the station, its wheels gently turning faster and faster until it reached peak speed and rolled along the Scottish hillside. Smoke rose in spirals above the stack in the engine, and the tracks passed swiftly.

This was absolutely incredible. The sound of the whistle and the rumble of the tracks, even the sound of the trees flying by could all be heard in this room, produced by a girl, a marble chess set, and a bit of wood and brass.

He was alarmed to hear the train come into the station and end with the gasp of a young woman. So entranced was he that it took him a moment to realize that this was not part of the song. "Miss Granger?" he asked, one eye peeping open.

"I wasn't planning on playing the entire twenty minutes of it and the almost twenty minutes of 'Rhapsody,' but I did, and I told Harry I would meet him in the empty Defense Against the Dark Arts practice room at two, and it's two now! I'm so sorry, Professor, to rush off," she said as she rushed off, "but I'd hate to be late…er. Have a good day! Oh, and next time, you get to pick the music!"

And then she was gone, leaving a bewildered Professor Snape in her absence.

Feeling physically relaxed and emotionally restless, he decided to engage in a walk about the castle and grounds before heading back to his rooms for a nap before dinner.

~~HGSS~~

Hermione ran pell-mell and skidded into the doorway where Harry was patiently waiting.

"Sorry!" she told him. "I just got caught up in…other things…and I lost track of time."

"I figured out where you were, don't worry about it," he said simply.

"You…you did?" she asked, a bit incredulous that Harry would be that intuitive.

"I heard about last night's attack the same as you, Hermione," he said with a shrug. "And I know you. If someone needs you, you help them, and his need was greater than mine."

She took in a deep breath and hugged him. "I love you, Harry James. Thanks for being a fantastic friend. There are times when I wish it was different between us. It would make dating so much easier."

"I hear you there, 'Mione. So, did you bring the music, so we can get started?"

"Yes, although instead of bringing a record player, I charmed my wand to work as a sort of magical music player instead. I figured out how to use a few Arithmancy equations to find out the-"

"It's okay, Hermione. I don't really care how it's done," he said, smiling. "You know I won't be able to do it anyway."

She nodded in agreement before picking out "Winter" by Vivaldi. (6) The tempo and plucky rhythm was perfect for teaching the Boy Wonder how to dance. She linked arms with him and began to lead him through the steps.

Harry was adamant about learning to dance. Hermione was by no means a professional, but she was willing to give up some time to help him learn the basics. If he wanted to do the Argentine Tango, he was on his own, but the waltz and a few others she could help him with.

Harry had finally decided he was going to ask Ginny to the Yule Ball.

He had a day or two until the first of December, but other couples were already being matched, and Hermione was happy to see that at least he didn't think Ginny would wait around forever. But before he asked her, Harry had wanted to start freshening up his dance steps. He was not going to be the Harry Potter who had gone to Yule in fourth year.

Harry had Hermione in a tight embrace as they waltzed around the room.

"Much better, Harry! You're really starting to pick it up now!"

"Well, I did have the most particular teacher in the school."

"Oh? So you had Professor Snape teaching you to dance?" she asked as they whirled around the room.

"Haha, Professor Granger."

She laughed. "You know I love you, Harry. And I always will, even as Professor Granger."

"I love you too, Hermione. And in some parallel universe, we are already together and shagging like rabbits."

"Harry!"

They both heard the crackling crunch of crushed parchment and heard heavy footsteps falling away from the entrance of the practice room. Hermione poked her head out but saw no one around. Shrugging, she stepped back into the room to lambast Harry.

"Harry, do not even talk about you and me…being intimate. It's just not right."

"I know," he said without much remorse. "It's what you get for the comment about Ginny and I making babies. And for telling us you had a thing for Snape."

Hermione just rolled her eyes. "I think we are about done here for now. We'll find some time next week to fit in another practice."

"You're the greatest, Hermione."

She sighed. "I know. I'll be down by the lake if you need me."

~~HGSS~~

Snape was furious. And he was furious with the fact that he was furious. When he had come upon Granger with that pillock Potter, he had ignored his first thought that she was, in fact, playing music for someone besides him.

Then he had poked his head into the room to see the two in a passionate embrace exchanging words of love.

Potter! Why must it always be a Potter? The elder or the younger, Snape was destined to lose the people he cared about to some Potter. He had even lost his favor with Dumbledore when the dunderhead had started school.

And she, the silver-fingered siren! The damned dual-faced Delilah! She had wrapped him around her finger like a scarf in snowy Scotland.

He wanted to cast out this cursed consonance!

It had made little difference to him that she had no clue as to his feelings for her. He still felt betrayed, led on. She had come to him and offered him a safe harbor. A shelter from the storm. A place to rest and relax his weary body and mind before going out to face the dangers that had been a part of his life longer than they hadn't.

The whole time she had been singing of her longing to find her someone, she had been with Potter.

His walk taking on a new vengeance, he headed out of the hallway, only to stop in his tracks.

He heard a voice, soft but clear, singing to him. Singing about his thoughts of Hermione. (7)

"'Where did she go? Where can she be? When will she come again calling to me? Calling to me...Calling to me...'"

He looked around but saw no one. Not a ghost or a student was in sight. Nothing of Weasley origin either, but still the voice continued to sing.

"'Somewhere there's a girl who's like the shimmer of the wind upon the water. Somewhere there's a girl who's like the glimmer of the sunlight on the sea. Somewhere there's a girl who's like a swell of endless music. Somewhere she is singing, and her song is meant for me.'"

He stepped out of the main doors, only to be halted once again.

She was there, down by the lake, sitting as calm as could be. The snow swirled around the lawn in the light, afternoon winter wind, and she was wrapped in a warm parka, sitting on a bench by the lake.

"'And her voice, it's sweet as angels sighing. And her voice, it's warm as summer sky. And that sound, it haunts my dreams and spins me 'round until it seems I'm flying...Her voice!'" the voice ended in a whisper.

Professor Snape looked down at the young woman sitting alone. Did he really think she was with Potter, or was it just his rash paranoia and self-pity that made him jump to such conclusions?

"'I can sense her laughter in the ripple of the waves against the shoreline. I can see her smiling in the moonlight as it settles on the sand. I can feel her waiting just beyond the pale horizon, singing out a melody too lovely to withstand.'"

His heart ached to hear these words, now that he was once again in full custody of said heart. He thought it had abandoned him, gone in a green curse flashed in green eyes.

But he was wrong, something that had been happening quite a bit of late. And here it was restored to him, possibly not quite as new, but still fully functioning. And it was all because of her. Her playing, her openness and understanding, her acceptance, and her voice. Her vexing, vivacious, virtuous voice.

"'And her voice, it's there as dusk is falling. And her voice, it's there as dawn steals by. Pure and bright, it's always near, all day, all night, and still I hear it calling... Her voice.'"

Where was that voice coming from? He looked up and down, spun in a circle, and began to pat himself down. And then he found it.

"'Strange as a dream...Real as the sea… If you can hear me now, come set me free...Come set me free!'"

That blasted white king! This was where he had stowed away! How long had he been in that pocket? Had he been there when he had spoken with Hermione, biding his time to make the largest disastrous impact? Had he been unconscious until this moment? And why in the bloody hell was he in his pocket to begin with?

He pulled out the offending piece, only to notice simultaneously that it was in the pocket in which he had put her handkerchief this morning, which was now laying on the ground in plain sight, and that she had heard the commotion of the little piece singing and was now coming towards him. He quickly reached down and grabbed the square of white cloth, wrapped the piece in it, and stowed it as far down in his largest pocket as he could manage to deal with later.

Hermione had been sitting on the bench, silently pondering when Harry was going to actually talk to Ginny, when she had heard voices behind her. She couldn't make out the words, but the Head Girl in her had demanded she turn around to investigate. She had been intrigued to find her professor standing alone and decided to go ask him if he had heard anything.

"Hello, Professor," she greeted him. "I thought I heard some commotion over here. Did you see anything?"

"No, Miss Granger," he said a bit stiffly. "I'm afraid there is no one."

"Oh." She looked down both sides of the gravel walk, indeed finding no one.

He could feel the piece begin to wriggle in his pocket, and he quickly shoved it back down again, trying to remain as inconspicuous as possible.

She couldn't help but notice that he was terribly uncomfortable, but thankfully she didn't see the little white head that had finally made its way over the rim of his jacket pocket.

"I really am sorry for leaving you so quickly, sir. If I hadn't told Harry I would meet him, I wouldn't have left so soon. But you know how he can be, and I know he really needed me this afternoon."

He gazed at her, this lovely little witch looking at him with earnest and bright eyes. She had no clue how she affected him, how she touched him.

How she gave him thoughts of touching her.

Professor Snape pulled back quickly from this train of thought before his traitorous body made a bigger fool out of him.

"I am certain he did _need_ you," he said with a sneer. "I'm sure he is so _relieved_ you could _attend_ to him."

She looked at him, confused and curious. "Yes, I'm sure he is. Now that his dancing has improved a bit, he should be asking Ginny to the Yule Ball any day. And about time too, she has been waiting for him for months. But Harry, he can be thick, and he does things in his own time. Happy to see he is getting around to it. Have a good day, Professor, and just tell me if you need anything." She paused. "Or if _you_ need me."

For a discomfited moment, the two just stood there next to each other in the Scottish cold before Hermione nodded once to him and left for the shelter of the castle.

Snape made a beeline for his rooms and slammed the large wooden door behind him. Throwing himself back against it, he could feel himself trembling.

She wasn't with Potter!

Even though in the end, he knew she would never return his affection, somehow he was still pleased that she wouldn't be taken by a Potter. Perhaps by the time she took a husband, she would be long out of school, and he would have forgotten about her entirely, or be dead.

Perhaps an end by the Dark Lord wouldn't be so terrible, as he wouldn't have to see the end of his dreams with his pesky, precocious, pertinacious Pandora.

**Teaser**:

"Play this," he said in an urgent voice. "I need to hear you play this."

Raising a brow in question, she crossed the room and took the book from him. Noticing it was one of her collections of Broadway pieces only increased her curiosity. She looked at the title.

_Lily's Eyes._


	14. Chapter 14

**Author's Note: **I was hoping to do this with a bonus chapter, but my dear beta's Golden Retriever had cancer in his leg and it had to be amputated so I'm not going to ask for beta work. However, my husband and I found out Friday that after 18 months of trying, we are pregnant with our first child, due February 1st, as long as all goes well. We're thrilled beyond belief! :D

I know there has been some anticipation, so I hope this chapter lives up to it.

Also, the third song is silent, hence no video. :)

**Playlist: **http:/ /www. youtube. com/watch?v=w5VwmBuhIPQ&feature=PlayList&p=72AC8ED6899521BC&playnext_from=PL&index=0

**Chapter Fourteen**

Hermione looked up from her book to see what all the fuss was about.

Her friends had been enjoying a quiet dinner in the Great Hall, taking pleasure in the comfort of good food and ignoring the blowing snow outside and the frigid temperatures in the rest of the castle. Less than three weeks remained until the holidays started and the students left for break. The atmosphere around the castle was one of general contentment and holiday cheer.

Well, it had been at least.

"Yes, Ron," Hermione heard Lorrell say. "If I hadn't intended on eating it, I wouldn't have put it on my plate."

"Well, it was just sitting there!" Ron exclaimed. "You hadn't touched it, and there wasn't anymore, and I just figured you'd have polished it off by now if it was so important!"

"Oh, so just because it's the last one gives you the right to just snatch it off my plate because you want it, is that it? Because it's not like I have an opinion? God, Ron, you didn't even give me a chance to answer you. You had it stuffed halfway in your mouth by the time you said, 'Hey Lorrell, do you'!"

"But it was a cauldron cake, and you know I love those."

Hermione watched the verbal back and forth with a sense of déjà vu. She had certainly been through this same argument with Ron before, during, and after they had dated.

"Yeah, Ron, they are your favorite, but not every piece of food is meant to be crammed into YOUR gob! I love cauldron cakes just as much as you do. But you know what, fine. Take it. It doesn't matter. I'm going to go study."

Ron tried to protest around the leftover cake in his mouth but couldn't form the words before the girl was gone.

Hermione just rolled her eyes with a sigh and pulled her bit of Bakewell tart a bit closer. No sense in both of them losing their pudding to Ron.

Ron could be heard complaining about Lorrell and her lack of sharing, and Hermione wondered how often the occupants of the table had heard the same harangue about her. Hermione thought she was a fairly giving and self-sacrificing individual, but Ron was very focused on the moment and not often look at the larger picture. If he was being denied now, then he was always denied in his mind, forgetting the time she had helped him with his homework, lent him her notes, acted as the brain behind their harebrained schemes, and knitted Christmas presents for him last year when he had forgotten to shop and, instead, spent his money at Honeyduke's.

Becoming more annoyed with him the more she mused, she finished her tart and took her book back up to the common room, rushing quickly through the hallways to escape the chill. Gryffindor tower was known for its roaring fires, and she was eager for her blanket and a deep welcoming chair.

Finding them both, Hermione settled down into what she thought would be the start of a perfect evening. She tucked the blanket around her, remembering its arrival with a smile. She fingered the tight stitches in the worn cream-colored cotton.

She wondered at her theft and the early days of her acquaintance with her professor. Had she taken it because she was taken with him, even before Ron had left?

There was something to never tell Ron.

She brushed the accidental memento of his affection – she could pretend – and opened up her book again. Managing the Magical Pupil was not the most enthralling read, but it did impart several new techniques for dealing with uniquely magical behavior in students.

The room was subdued in the cold wintery evening. Homework was already lessening in the face of vacation. Teachers were mostly giving out research projects and papers for them to work on at home, so there weren't as many daily assignments to keep the students occupied.

Just as Hermione was losing the sounds of the students to the techniques in her book, Lorrell came over and morosely sat on the couch nearest to her. Hermione marked her page and slowly looked up at Lorrell with a questioning look on her face.

"Sometimes Ron drives me absolutely up a wall," said Lorrell.

"I can only imagine," Hermione told her with a jesting tone.

The blonde let out a half laugh. "Yeah, I know. You can imagine all too well. How did you put up with it?"

"Well, since we're no longer together, you can see exactly how well I put up with it. I went practically senile as well. But there were a lot more things that drove the spike between Ron and me. His inconsideration was only one of them. Ron will make some witch extremely happy. Some patient, outgoing, and social witch. I'm not any of those things," Hermione told her. She wasn't trying to be self-deprecating. Hermione knew that she had many gifts, but she tried to be practical about which gifts weren't hers, and the traits needed to deal with Ron on more than a friendship level weren't hers.

"Any suggestions?" Lorrell asked.

"Be tolerant," Hermione told her. "And forgiving. Pick your battles, just like with anyone. I think Ron was so caught up in trying to stand out over his brothers that he never learned when he didn't have to take what he wanted in order to receive something. Being the last of six boys, there wasn't much he could do to be special. He wouldn't be the first prefect, Head Boy, Quidditch player, or House Cup winner. And his family doesn't have much in the way of monetary things. So what he wants, or needs, he takes before someone else does. Maybe that will change in time. Maybe it won't. You just have to decide if the Ron he is now is someone you want to deal with."

"He's a ginger," said Lorrell, "and gingers are a weakness. I think, for me, the pros outweigh the cons. We can become mature and functioning adults later."

Hermione smiled. Ron had definitely found a good match. "I'm happy to hear you don't expect him to start acting like Percy."

Lorrell shrugged. "I still haven't met all of his family. Just briefly before school."

"I'm sure you will over Christmas. Well, not Percy, but you'll hear more about him. Remember, we stayed in his room. He's the brother who kind of excommunicated himself. He is…different from the other Weasleys. But I am sure you will enjoy being at the Burrow over Christmas and having Ron all to yourself," Hermione told her in a conspiratorial whisper.

"You won't be there?"

Hermione shook her head. "Not this year. It feels kind of odd, with being just friends again. Not that it's a bad thing! But with that, and with my working here in the castle next year, I would rather stay here. I can chat freely with the other professors, read up in the library without interruption, and enjoy a bit of solitude before everyone comes back."

Lorrell clearly thought Hermione was a bizarre individual for giving up a warm, cozy house, great food, and a large family – and Ron – for Hogwarts. Not even trying to comprehend, she bid Hermione good night and left her to her book.

Hermione suppressed a laugh and once more began to read.

Sometime later, she looked up to see most of the students had gone to bed. Feeling stiff and sleepy herself, she unfolded long enough to leave the chair and tuck herself under her bedcovers.

~~HGSS~~

Opening her eyes, the first thing she noticed was that it was still dark. The second was the tug on her magic and the quiet vibration from the folds of her clothes on the floor next to the bed.

Now completely alert, she shot up and quietly but efficiently rummaged through her clothes until she found the little magical object she was seeking. "Lumos," she whispered and rubbed the sleep from her eyes in order to read the words that felt as though they would scorch themselves into her hand.

_RoR, now if possible_

Alarmed, she leapt from the bed, rushed through the painting, and sprinted down the hallway.

Reaching the entrance to the Room of Requirement, she paced quickly three times, thinking, "_I need to see Professor Snape. I need to see Professor Snape. I need to see Professor Snape._"

She looked up to find a clear panel through the wall, where she could clearly see the professor pacing back and forth.

Letting out a part growl, part scream of frustration, she pictured the space normally provided to her and performed the three paces once more. This time she was relieved to find a door and ran through it.

After barreling into the room, Hermione's sleeping brain caught up with her and, in its multitasking fashion, had two realizations.

One was that if he wanted her to play the piano for him tonight, her music was still on her shelf and in her pack back in the tower.

The second was that she was in sleep pants, a too small Weird Sisters t-shirt, and a ponytail.

She looked at him in panic and thus did not see a pair of hungry eyes appreciating the shirt stretched tight across her chest and her navel peeking out the bottom.

Upon hearing her entrance, her agitated Professor quit pacing and faced her. Other than the deep circles under his eyes and his scowl, his appearance was impeccable. His hair looked damp from a shower, and he was fully dressed in his usual attire, complete with robes.

Hermione's sleep-deprived brain briefly paused on his buttons before it nudged her to say something to break the awkward silence. "Do you need me, sir?"

Her brain scoffed at her question. She needed to break the awkwardness, not encourage it.

"To p-play, I mean," she forged on. "Are you unable to sleep?"

How could he tell her of the horrors he saw when he closed his eyes? The murder, rape, and torture he had witnessed. Some memories that had long been hidden away were resurfacing, like a scab ripped off a wound.

Lately, his mind had taken a turn for the personal. Parading before him in his bedchamber were the friends, acquaintances, colleagues, or students who had been murdered.

Dumbledore. His mum. The Diggory boy. Crouch. Karkaroff. Fortescue. Black.

Lily.

"Quite," he finally answered her.

Hermione thought this was all he was going to say, but it seemed as though lack of sleep had loosened the tongue of the professor, and he began to speak in earnest.

"I have attempted to sleep for hours. I performed an extra patrol of the already too damned quiet castle, I read a book, and I even had a cup of the blasted chamomile tea Dumbledore insisted would help. I just toss and turn. Even a long, hot shower didn't help_." Neither did the long overdue release in said shower, _he thought bitterly.

"Well, I'm glad you came to me," Hermione unwittingly told him.

Even though he knew she didn't mean what he thought she did, he still hastily sat in a chair before his body gave her the wrong idea.

"I realize this is quite late for you, Miss Granger. If you need to return to your dormitory, I understand."

"No, no, not at all. This is fine. I meant what I said about calling if you need me, sir, and I wouldn't have said it if I didn't trust you. Ron and Harry have woken me up in the middle of the night for stranger things, I assure you."

Her brain may have been still asleep, but his was obviously still in the dungeons because he couldn't help but interpret everything she said through a filter of innuendo.

"And besides," she continued, "my first class isn't until ten, and I'm sure my professor will be accommodating."

She gave him a pointed look.

"Don't count on it," he told her flatly.

"Well, maybe not accommodating but unnoticing perhaps?"

"Perhaps," he said.

"And perhaps a few of your students will be unnoticing too, sir, and will do their best to keep their heads down and out of trouble."

She sat at the piano and gave a yawn and a stretch. "I know I told you next time would be listener's choice, but I'm afraid I left all of my music back in the dorm."

"I…well…" He hesitated. "I brought a selection."

She looked at him, startled. "Oh really? I didn't know you knew any music."

"I don't. But you suggested I learn. There are a few books here at school I looked through."

Hermione grew excited at the prospect of new music and the thought of getting another glimpse into the personality of her professor. She was a fairly good sight reader, but she fervently hoped she could play it well for him.

"May I see it?"

He handed her a fairly wrinkled piece of parchment. She wasn't aware that this was what had been in his hand the day he saw her and Harry. He had gone to the library instead of going to grade as he had thought he would and had found this piece he hoped she would enjoy.

Snape was glad to have avoided the questions that would have arisen had anyone seen him in the library, nose to parchment, as he scanned over the sheets of music, completely unable to comprehend them.

"I am unable to read music, but I knew you enjoyed the composer."

Flattening the sheets over the edge of her piano, she looked at the lined paper. "Did you copy this?"

"I used Geminio, yes, until it could be copied by hand."

Copyright laws apparently had as much meaning to wizards as they did to Muggles.

Then she noticed the title, and her inner self made a gleeful noise. "Jim Brickman! Wonderful! Give me a second to look it over. And you know, this was supposed to be _listener's_ choice, not mine."

"My choice is to listen to what you play. Our tastes appear compatible."

Hermione couldn't help the smirk that appeared on her face, and she went back to the music. The piece was titled "Coming Home" and was in Brickman's typical lyric style.

The curiosity she felt when wondering why Hogwarts would have Brickman music was pushed aside when her mind contemplated if one day when he was coming home, he would be coming home to her.

There was something seriously wrong with her. Not once with Ron had she felt the desire for commitment or marriage, and here she was fantasizing about it in reference to her _professor_ with whom she didn't even _have_ a relationship.

Sleep, that was all. She just needed sleep. It was the middle of the night, for the love of Merlin. She had always had strange dreams.

She refocused on the parchment, giving it a quick onceover. The piece looked fairly simple, and she began to play. (1)

Her thoughts of whether he had felt the same when he read the title gave her playing a hopeful, longing sound. The music itself was quietly celebratory, and she tried her best to capture that instead of dwelling in her thoughts.

As for Snape, he thought back to the image of the parchment he had handed her. He had no way of telling what a song would sound like by looking at it, and once again, his mind tried in vain to wrap around the fact that she could look at black dots and lines and squiggles and create this.

She abruptly stopped in the middle of playing.

"Dobby!"

Dobby popped into view after a few seconds, still wearing a nightcap, and inquired what Miss Friend of Harry Potter needed.

"Could you bring me four or five of my music books please? A few of the anthologies?"

"Speedy quick, Miss!" said Dobby as he vanished.

Hermione resumed playing, and when Dobby returned, she indicated for him to give the books to her professor so that he could look through them.

"I imagine some of those have words and some don't," she said, looking over her shoulder to see which ones Dobby had brought. "Pick either. I should know most of them."

"Of course you would," he mumbled under his breath.

"I heard that."

She played the rest of the gentle song and waited for him to choose another selection.

She looked at him when she heard a startled gasp.

"Play this," he said in an urgent voice. "I need to hear you play this."

Raising a brow in question, she crossed the room and took the book from him. Noticing it was one of her collections of Broadway pieces only increased her curiosity. She looked at the title.

'_Lily's Eyes'._

"No, sir. I don't think I should play this," she said quickly. "Why don't you pick something slower, like the one back–"

"Play this!"

She had rarely heard him raise his voice to her and found she did not care for it. "No. You came here tonight to find music to help you sleep, to rest, and I highly doubt this is going to help you. Have you even read through it?" she asked, waving the book around and handing it to him.

He shook his head. "No. Play it anyway!" he said forcefully.

"A please, a smile, and a thank you will take you far, Professor," she told him, standing resolutely.

He stared at her for a moment, not believing that even his most intimidating classroom voice would not coerce her into complying. It apparently just made her angry.

After glaring at her for another moment, he realized she was, in fact, dead serious, and he took a calming breath. "Please?"

Hermione snatched the book from his hand, obviously still annoyed. She honestly had not thought he would have it in him to apologize, but he had proved her wrong.

She knew before she even started the song that this was going to be a trying time for them both. For him because he would be forced to recall his feelings for his deceased love head on, and for her because she was trying not to become jealous of a dead woman, especially when neither of the three of them had ever been involved with each other.

This evening was just surreal, and Hermione could not wait to either wake up or go back to dreaming, whichever one she wasn't currently doing.

Folding back the music with a quick glare at her teacher, she began the song. (2)

She sang softly, hearing her voice and her piano clearly in the silence of the dead of night. "'Strangely quiet, but now the storm simply rests to strike again. Standing, waiting, I think of her. I think of her.'"

Hermione nibbled her lip. God, but she didn't want to continue. "'Strange, this Mary, she leaves the room, yet remains, she lingers on. Something stirs me to think of her. I think of her.'" She could feel her eyes begin to prickle, but she wasn't going to cry. Enough people were still mourning the loss of Harry's mum. Hermione was only going to feel sorrow at a certain someone's attachment to her and what would never be.

"'From death she casts her spell, all night we hear her sighs.'" Hermione choked up a little. "'And now a girl has come who has her eyes. She has her eyes. The girl has Lily's hazel eyes, those eyes that saw him happy long ago. Those eyes that gave him life and hope he'd never known. How can he see the girl and miss those hazel eyes?'"

Hermione knew that her professor had not missed the eyes of Lily present in his current pupil. He had seen them more days than not in the face of his most hated student. How much had he relied on her during his childhood? Hermione had heard of no friends besides her. How would she feel if Harry and Ron went on to marry Pansy and Millicent and never spoke to her again?

"'She has her eyes, the girl has Lily's hazel eyes. Those eyes that closed and left me all alone. Those eyes I feel will never ever let me go! How can I see this girl who has her hazel eyes? In Lily's eyes a castle this house seemed to be, and I, the bravest knight, became. My lady fair was she.'"

Aware of a tear sliding down her cheek, she focused solely on the music in front of her. If she looked to him right now, her heart would show in her face, and she would break down completely.

Was Lily his fair lady? Had she made him the bravest knight? Had she known how he had felt? How could she have just left him, knowing what he went home to, knowing he had had no support, no kindness? No love?

Hermione was far from mourning. She was becoming increasingly bitter towards the specter of a stranger for the way she had treated her Severus.

"'She has her eyes. She has my Lily's hazel eyes. Those eyes that loved my brother-never me. Those eyes that never saw me, never knew I longed to hold her close, to live at last in Lily's eyes! Imagine me, a lover!'" Her voice broke again, picturing him at her age, hopes of a wife already so dashed that service to the Dark Lord had seemed like a welcomed mistress.

"'I longed for the day she'd turn and see me standing there. Would God have let her stay? Would God have let her stay? She has her eyes. She has her eyes. She has Lily's hazel eyes. My Lily's hazel eyes. Those eyes that saw me, those eyes that first I loved so! Happy long ago. How can I now forget that once I dared to be - that once I dared to be in love.'"

_Don't feel like that now, sir_, Hermione's mind pleaded. _There is someone here who loves you._

She finished the song with a sniffle and wiped her eyes as discretely as possible before turning to him.

He was turned away from her, hair covering his face so that nothing but the tip of his nose was visible. She felt her breath coming in gasps but was afraid to break the silence. Finally, he spoke.

"How do they know?"

"Know…know what, sir?"

"What's in my heart?"

Tears welled in her eyes as her chest gave a larger heave. "That's the magic of music. It puts what is inside outside. Sometimes it's easier to handle that way."

"Some things don't need to be handled," he said, his voice hoarse, though she could still hear the sneer.

"I know…I know that she was your friend," Hermione said. Time to draw on the merits of her house. "But she was still not worthy of you."

"What do you know?" he said sharply. "You weren't there. You know _nothing_."

"I know what you called her. I know that she never spoke to you again, and I know that you tried to apologize. True friendship, it isn't like that. She…she may have been the best you've known, but she isn't the best there is."

"Shouldn't have expected Potter to be able to keep his mouth shut. Oh, and I suppose you think that Potter and Weasley are better? She was…everything. She was everything."

Hermione sat near him in the opposite chair, her knees practically touching his backside as he faced away from her. "Harry only told me, sir. I don't even think he discussed it with Ron. Think about everything we've discussed about love and caring and friendship over the last few months. Because love, it is just a word until you find someone who gives it definition. Does she define it for you? Is she the paragon of what it means to be wholly accepted and cared for and cherished and…and…_loved_?"

She felt a little silly speaking to his back, as she was making full facial expressions and gesturing.

After a long moment, she heard a deep grumble in his chest. "No," he said. "She doesn't. Not anymore."

"Then…then maybe it's time to acknowledge that you have spent enough of your life trying to repair a friendship that is beyond redemption and was possibly that way even before she was killed. If she truly was a friend, she wouldn't want you to torment yourself like this. If she wasn't a friend, then she isn't worth it anyway."

Hermione held her breath. It was a turning point for them, she could feel it. Here, he would either toss her out or accept her.

He looked in her direction now, with hollow and haunted eyes partially hidden, and she longed to lean forward and brush the hair away. How long before he realized he didn't need to hide from her? "She is not who defines love for me. She may have given all I received, but I have recently been reminded that there are those who genuinely care for others than themselves."

He looked from her lips to her eyes, and she felt her breath catch. Surely…_surely_ he wasn't speaking of her.

"While you ponder, I'm going to play an American piece I didn't do last time. It's by John Cage, titled '4'33'."

She as she stood up, she reached out and affectionately rubbed his shoulder and gave it a squeeze, letting her fingers trail down his arm as far as she nonchalantly could.

She sat at the piano, posed her fingers as though to play, and then turned and faced him.

She gave him credit. He was quiet longer than she had thought he'd be.

"And just what are you playing?"

"Shhh," she told him.

She paid attention to his breathing, the sound of the shuffle of their shoes, the crackling of the wood in the fire, and the night sounds that could be heard.

"_Tempus,_" Hermione whispered, checking how much time had passed and wondering how long he would last.

"I will not just sit here in silence," he said insolently.

She could tell that his patience was wearing thin and that he was focusing his emotion into anger instead of reflection, so she took pity on him. "It's not just silence. Nothing is ever perfectly silent. Listen to the music of the room, of the sounds around us. Become as involved in that as you would be in the instruments. Listen. We are making our own symphony. Our own unexpected song."

He paused. He listened. His heart calmed a little. He rather liked making something with Hermione. His budding friendship with her had already passed the intimacy he had shared with Lily. He may have grown up with her, but she had rarely showed that she cared about him and his wellbeing. It seemed to be done with effort, whereas with Hermione, it was just an unconscious extension of who she was. She was unable to not show she cared. (4)

"'I have never felt like this. For once I'm lost for words. Your smile has really thrown me,'" she sang, and she smiled at him weakly. "'This is not like me at all. I never thought I'd know the kind of love you've shown me.'"

"And just what are you singing, Miss Granger?" he asked, trying to compose his overt display of emotion. He crossed his arms and attempted to glare at her. He found that it was hard to glare at someone you love.

"An unexpected song," she told him. "Think of what a friend should be, and what love should be, since you can't seem to tolerate silence." She sang again. "'Now, no matter where I am, no matter what I do, I see your face appearing like an unexpected song, an unexpected song that only we are hearing.'"

He thought about his time with Lily. Beautiful, sweet Lily. Vain, unforgiving Lily.

He thought about his time with Hermione. Beautiful, sweet Hermione. Stubborn, bossy Hermione.

There really was no comparison.

"'I don't know what is going on, can't work it out at all. Whatever made you choose me? I just can't believe my eyes. You look at me as though you couldn't bear to lose me,'" she continued to sing.

He shook his head. There were times he swore she and her music were Legilimens. There had to be a way that she was inside his head. If only this was what she truly felt.

Although…

"'Now, no matter where I am, no matter what I do, I see your face appearing like an unexpected song, an unexpected song that only we are hearing.'" She grew fervent in her unexpected song. Was he feeling the emotion? Did he feel the same?

If only he knew.

"'I have never felt like this. For once I'm lost for words. Your smile has really thrown me…'" She continued the song, a repetition of the beginning, thinking about his brief, slowly teased out smile. Hermione wondered what he would think if he knew that he could take away her often overflowing vocabulary with a simple smile.

She thought about her time with Ron. Handsome, charming Ron. Overbearing, uncultured Ron.

She thought about her time with Severus. Handsome, charming – when he wanted to be – Severus. Stubborn, irritable Severus.

There really was no comparison.

"'Now, no matter where I am, no matter what I do, I see your face appearing like an unexpected song, an unexpected song that only we are hearing.'"

Glancing at him, he looked positively tortured. Without thinking, she crossed the room and enveloped him in the type of hug she normally saved for those closest to her. The big, full-arm squeeze, all-encompassing hug.

Her face buried in his long, black hair (she would think about what it was doing to her later, now was _not_ the time), she felt him gingerly place his hands on either side of her back and heard him ask, "And what are you doing?"

"Hugging you."

"Why?" he asked, incredulous.

"Because you needed it, and I needed it, and it's what friends do," she answered, not moving an inch, face still happily covered.

He stiffened a little. "I don't think I need any friends, Miss Granger," he said, attempting to regain some formality.

"Then it's a good thing I didn't ask you," she answered cheekily, finally relinquishing her hold on him and standing up, once again sliding her hands down his arms and giving his hands a little squeeze as she stepped away.

He felt the loss of her vanilla-scented curls. Her soft body against his chest. The weight of her head nestled against his. He felt the loss of her.

He had to leave.

"Thank you for your time. But...but I…I need to go."

She nodded her head in understanding. For a man like him, tonight had to have been especially trying, and if stepping away was what he needed to do in order to process the changes in what he thought were the bedrocks of his foundation, then she wouldn't begrudge him.

Gathering the fabric of his robes, he cut a valiant figure as he tried to gracefully flee.

As he left, he could hear her playing a few soft notes.

She was playing his song.

**Teaser: **He could feel his cheeks redden. He told himself that it was from the cold, and not from the soft, tender touches of the beautiful witch in front of him.


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: **Thank you for all the well wishes The pregnancy is going great, just a little queasiness, mostly tired. I'll be six weeks along on Tuesday. My beta's dog is doing well also, as a tripod, and he is adjusting well to chemotherapy.

Oh, and some of these songs are anachronisms. Shush. I like them anyway. =)

**Playlist:** http:/ /www .youtube .com/watch?v=pf0BP5wSqm8&feature=PlayList&p=EE8B12F08195DF3C&playnext_from=PL&index=0&playnext=1

**Chapter Fifteen**

_Tap. Tap. Tap_.

Hermione sat at her piano, tapping her fingers lightly across the top of the keys.

_Tap. Tap. Tap. _

She had been waiting here for quite some time, and she had already eaten a few biscuits, drank a cup of tea, sat in both chairs, and reviewed her music.

She laid her head on the piano keys with an unceremonious and discordant thud.

A few moments later, she picked it up again, imagining how her appearance would be improved by a few key-shaped rectangles pressed into her cheek.

Hermione knew that after being over an hour late, he probably wasn't going to come, but she couldn't bring herself to leave. She just kept playing their last meeting over in her mind. Had she been too forthcoming and overbearing? Would she feel his hair against her cheek again?

She released a happy sigh, even though the thought was a bit sobering. If someone had told her a few weeks ago that she would be acting like a giddy girl over her solemn professor, she would have checked them for a Confundus Charm. But the fact remained. He made her happy, and if there was the slightest chance he was put out with her, she wanted to make it right.

She also couldn't help rolling the possible reasons for his late arrival around in her mind. Had there been an accident in one of his later classes? Was he is trouble? Had he been summoned? It had occurred to her to ask Minerva for his whereabouts, but that felt a little like an invasion of privacy. She had no doubt that if he had wanted her to know, she would know.

So she waited.

~~HGSS~~

It had been one of _those_ meetings. The raving meetings. The ones that were not quite as bad as the others, even if Voldemort hadn't picked up a new vulgarity today, preferring his tried and true insults so close to Christmas.

He had felt the burn of his Dark Mark during dinner and hastily made his excuses to the headmistress. Assuming it was still a little early for the holiday raids and torture typically committed by the Death Eaters this time of year, he made no excuses to Hermione. He had thought he would be back before their meeting at seven. It was now nearly half past eight, and he was having trouble focusing on the meeting at hand, imagining her furious with him.

She was exceedingly forgiving, and she knew this could happen. He doubted she would stay angry, but his history couldn't help but overlay itself on his present, and he was eager to return to the castle.

Although, he figured that after two hours of listening to this fanatical sycophant, anyone would be.

"And, my loyal servants, thisss shall be the year!" Snape heard him say for the fourth or fifth time that evening. "Harry Potter will come of age and will at last be a worthy opponent, showing the wizarding world my supremacy once and for all! And until then, we shall remind them of exactly why they should not contest Lord Voldemort."

The professor was idly gazing at the flames of the fire in the center of the circle and was unable to see the movement in the pocket of his jacket.

The white king had tagged along for this trip and was curious about all the shouting. Even though he could not speak, he could perfectly comprehend several languages as required to interpret anyone with whom he was playing. Also, when Hermione had re-charmed the set, she had inadvertently added a few things she was not expecting. One was increased intelligence and self-awareness.

He had been following Professor Snape for a few weeks, and he mostly left the poor sod alone. He was interested in this man, who appeared to want to court his Hermione. After attending classes, staff meetings, and observing his time with Hermione, the king had not been able to ascertain any weakness that he could use against his opponent – other than the fact that Snape needed some Muggle shampoo and a social life.

When the king was finally with Hermione, they were going to paint the town! They would leave behind Ron and Harry and Hogwarts and this professor. He would assemble his own orchestra, and Hermione would play with him. People would come from all over to hear the music and see the little king, and he would not spend any more time in some deep, dark pocket filled with who knows what!

The sound of shouts roused him from his musings, and he crawled up to peer over the rim of the pocket. Perhaps this was what he had been waiting for! Perhaps this was the weakness, the aspect about this man that would make his Hermione realize where she truly belonged.

He peeked over, and if it were possible, he would have been petrified. As it was, he was shocked stone-still as he watched the proceedings.

A tall, white, ugly man with fiery, red eyes and mere slits for a nose was standing in the center of a circle of men beside a large fire. Well, he assumed they were men. The black-hooded figures surrounded the eerie man in complete silence as he raved on.

"This is the last Christmasss the Muggle-borns shall ever see in this world. By death or by exile, next year will see them vanquished! We will take over. The Ministry, the Wizengamot, and Hogwarts will be as they once were. Purebloods teaching and ruling Purebloods without this filth of an infestation. Now comes the ssseason of their anguish, for this year shall bring tidings of suffering and pain."

_This_ was the man the professor was serving? Did he even realize Hermione was a Muggle-born? If Hermione knew, there was no way she would accept this raven-haired suitor.

"The time draws nigh, and I must bring those loyal to me into an even tighter circle. Come clossse, friends. Come clossser. Each of you has proven to me time and time again that your loyalty lies here, with the righteousss. Woe it would be indeed to stray from the guiding hand of Lord Voldemort. But it behooves me, I think, to remind you all once more, why you must never give me cause for concern."

The tension was as thick as Polyjuice, each waiting to see whether tonight's "reminder" would be in pleasure or pain.

"Ssseverus, come stand before your Lord."

The white king ducked low inside the pocket at the mention of his host's name and wrung his hands in fear of discovery.

"It pleases me, Ssseverus, how you bring me news of the young Harry Potter. But, I cannot help but wonder, with Dumbledore now gone, why you cannot bring me more?"

"As I have told you, my Lord, all of my knowledge is yours," he told the unstable man in as calm a voice as he could muster.

"Yesss, so you have. But is it all you can do? I wonder. Could you not make your peace with the Scottish witch now in charge? Could you not be a confidante to Potter?"

"I have never cared for him or his pathetic friends." It was only a partial lie, really. "I'm afraid it is too late to attempt to mend that bridge with any real semblance of sincerity."

"No? Are you telling your Lord no, Ssseverus?"

"No, my Lord. I am simply trying to determine a plausible strategy."

"I find I do not care for your stalling. Do you believe you know more than I? The great and powerful Lord Voldemort?"

A flash of red light could be seen erupting from the end of Voldemort's wand. Snape's first thought was,  
"Of course it's going to be red."

He had been cursed so many times over the years, especially in the beginning, that even though they were cast wordlessly, he had a pretty good idea of which one was heading his way.

His second thought was, therefore, "At least I will still be able to walk to the castle."

His third was, "So much for a dull evening."

He hit the ground with a barely audible thud. Snape had also become adept at taking a fall with the least amount of pain to his person. While perhaps adding a bit of drama at the same time. Sometimes, but not always.

The curse had cut and burned through his robes and left an eight-inch-long trail of burnt flesh along his collarbone and shoulder. He was somewhat relieved it was his left shoulder, even if it did hurt like a doxy.

Snape writhed briefly under the pain and wrapped his robes over the bleeding wound. He slowly picked himself up off the ground and faced Voldemort, ready should the attack upon him continue.

"Go," Voldmort spoke softly. "Go and see what you can determine of Potter and the side of the Light," he said with a sneer.

Professor Snape made an abrupt about-face, his hair and Death Eater robes making a dramatic devil's halo around him. His cringe of pain was not evident until he had walked past the edge of the circle. By the time he Apparated back to Hogwarts, he could feel the blood seeping through the layers of fabric. Sometimes he pondered if he wore so many layers of clothing because they acted as both a buffer and impromptu bandages.

He entered the castle gates and went as swiftly as he could to the main entrance, but instead of heading toward the hospital wing, he headed toward the seventh floor and the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy. Two hours had passed since his expected arrival, but he decided to put a little trust in his newfound feeling of hope.

~~HGSS~~

Hermione had finally given up the thought of him coming that evening, but she knew she wouldn't be able to learn anything about why until morning. She knew going to the dorm now would mean hours of chatter about the Yule Ball tomorrow and last minute efforts to secure her a date. The other girls could not fathom that Hermione wanted to go alone. If she couldn't go with the person she wanted to, she wasn't going to drag some poor guy along. She wasn't Harry or Ron.

Well, except for Slughorn's party with McLaggen. But she hadn't been trying to string him along, not really. It had simply been strategy. Which had backfired. So she wasn't going to do it again.

She shuddered a bit, remembering that horrible evening.

Hermione plucked a few notes from the piano before bringing out some music. While she was here, she might as well take advantage of the solitude. And yes, she was going to be a little maudlin, but she didn't care. (1)

She played the piano, before starting to sing softly, "'There's a fine, fine line between a lover and a friend. There's a fine, fine line between reality and pretend. And you never know 'til you reach the top if it was worth the uphill climb. There's a fine, fine line between love and a waste of time.'"

That was her and Ron all right. They had crossed that fine line and found nothing but disaster on the other side. She was grateful they were friends again and that it hadn't come between the three of them in the long-term. It had been a waste of time, but some things could be scavenged from it at least.

"'There's a fine, fine line between a fairy tale and a lie. And there's a fine, fine line between 'You're wonderful' and 'Goodbye.' I guess if someone doesn't love you back it isn't such a crime, but there's a fine, fine line between love and a waste of your time.'"

Professor Snape had made it up to the room, only gasping slightly and grimacing in pain as he came through the door.

He could not explain, even to himself, how he felt seeing that she was still there waiting for him.

"'And I don't have the time to waste on you anymore. I don't think that you even know what you're looking for. For my own sanity, I've got to close the door and walk away...Oh...'" she sighed.

And she needed to, too. Hermione needed to shut this door and go to bed and quit waiting for the man who was not coming.

But what she had meant literally, he took figuratively, and he forgot about his pain for a moment as he considered the possibility of Hermione not being in his life any longer. Was that what she was waiting on? Him? Did she truly care for him in the way he hoped she did, or was she still musing over the Weasley boy?

"'There's a fine, fine line between together and not. And there's a fine, fine line between what you wanted and what you got. You gotta go after the things you want while you're still in your prime... There's a fine, fine line between love and a waste of time.'"

She finished the song and immediately started to play another. (2)

He decided his pain could hold out another minute or two so that he could enjoy watching her be so uninhibited. Her presence still baffled him. She had waited literally hours for him, forgoing the last free night with her friends before the holidays. Perhaps she was planning on staying at the Weasley's.

Now his pain was forgotten in the face of anger and jealousy. Even if Weasley was dating that American tart, Potter was still single, last he had heard.

Snape listened to the slow, spaced notes and felt as though this was her swan song to him. Almost every song she played had a reason. A memory, a reflection of her mood, and often he could tell just by the name of the piece. He had to know the title of this.

Softly, he spoke. "And what is this called?"

"'Waiting for You,'" she responded automatically. Gasping, she stopped mid-phrase and spun around. "Professor!" Standing up and walking quickly over to him, she moved to hug him until she smelled the familiar tang of copper and saw the wet line on his black robes. She hadn't even noticed that his dress was different from normal. "You're bleeding! You need to go to Madam Pomfrey! Why are you here? Here, let me help you. Is it serious? Can I do anything to help you? In fact, why don't you sit down, and I'll go and bring her here so she can-"

"Granger, shut up and help me sit down." He found that the name of the song she had given him rendered him incapable of standing any longer. He felt as though the strength had been sucked from his very bones, leaving him as weary as an old man. A weight had been placed on his shoulders, rather than removed. She had been waiting for him.

"Yes, sir," Hermione answered dutifully and helped him into a chair. She immediately started to untie his cravat with nimble fingers and quickly moved to the front buttons of his jacket.

"What," he gasped, "what are you doing?"

Well, I can't heal it when it's covered in fabric!" she exclaimed, frustrated and never ceasing her movements.

Before he knew it, robes, cravat, jacket, and shirt were all undone. _Merlin, even his clothes are difficult_, mused Hermione.

He gasped again and tried to pull away, this time in shock instead of pain as he felt her small, cool hands on the hot flesh of his shoulder. He could feel his cheeks redden. He told himself that it was from the cold and not from the soft, tender touches of the beautiful witch in front of him. She was looking at his injury so diligently, so concerned.

She clucked a few times under her breath and shook her head. "Are you sure you're okay, Professor, and don't need to go to the hospital wing?" She gently pulled part of the fabric from his skin where the blood had already dried.

"It's just a flesh wound. I'll be fine."

He shivered as she ran her fingertips along the length of the wound.

"Are you cold, sir? Does this hurt?"

"No. I am fine. Your first song, the one with words, was that about _Weasley_?" he asked, attempting to appear uninterested, while also changing the subject. Hopefully, she would stop looking at him that way. If she didn't, he might do something he would later regret.

"Yes, and no," Hermione answered without looking up from her work.

He gave her an annoyed look. "Expand."

"I don't know how long you were here, but it's about closing the door with someone. The first part is very much Ron and me. We became more than merely friends, and it was a waste of our time. But the person singing is actually longing for someone else whom she doesn't think will ever cross the line or commit to a serious relationship. He doesn't love her like she loves him. That is most definitely not Ron. Or Harry. They both have scary girlfriends, and I couldn't bring myself to date a brother." She knew she was babbling again, but talking about _this_ with _him_ was just a little too close to home. There was no way she was going to tell him the truth behind the song.

"Good to hear. Children with Weasley wouldn't know if they were coming or going, and children with Potter wouldn't know a comb if it hit them." He hoped his callous words covered the pounding in his chest. Why couldn't he just accept that she had no romantic attachments to the less-than-dynamic duo?

Hermione gave a short snort at what she was pretty sure she wasn't supposed to find funny and gave him a quick poke near his wound, not near enough to cause pain but near enough to make him wince in expectation. "Be nice," she admonished and rummaged in her pack for some healing salve. Unscrewing the lid, she carefully worked it into the wound and the surrounding area, singing a healing charm as she went. In no time at all, the skin had sealed itself, and only an angry red line remained, forming what would surely become a scar.

Snape didn't even question why she would have healing salve with her.

She sat back a bit, smiling, very pleased with herself and her results. She had spent enough time healing her friends to know when more was at work than mere child's play. He had definitely been hit with something nasty, but it hadn't nicked bone, and the flesh could be repaired. It was apparently just intended to cause pain, not damage.

She gave it a tentative rub and asked him, "Better, sir?"

"Mmm," was his only response, which she took to be a yes.

Hermione couldn't help but give his alabaster skin one last caress as she folded the fabric she had cleaned with a quick wandless cleansing charm back over the wound. It wasn't her fault she wanted to touch him so much. He just appeared to be a tactual draw to her.

"It's getting a little late, but since tomorrow is our last day, classes will be relaxed. Would you like me to play for a little while?" Her concern was evident in her voice. Knowing where he was, she knew he would not sleep without her, and he had a very long and trying day tomorrow, with overly excited students and a ball to chaperone.

And, to be honest, she wanted to spend the evening in his quiet company, and this was the only way she knew how.

He inclined his head in acquiescence, and she began to play.

~~HGSS~~

"Ginny, no! No! I'm serious. Yes, I'm serious, I am absolutely done with this right now!"

Hermione hopped off the stool Ginny and Parvati had had her on for the last hour. Her hair was now neatly coiffed on top of her head, with her whole look very reminiscent of Audrey Hepburn. Jewelry on, gloves on, makeup finished, and she was ready to head down the grand staircase.

Dateless this time, and that was just fine. There wasn't anyone going without a date she would rather be with.

She waited for the other girls to get finished, which took roughly the same amount of time it normally took her to complete an essay for class. In fact, she would have rather been writing an essay.

Despite her lack of interest in most girly things, Hermione did enjoy being feminine and had looked forward to her recitals for the wonderful gowns she had been able to wear. A few had made it out of the house with her, and she had been waiting to wear this one for some time.

She looked in the mirror as she passed, startled at her own appearance. She looked decidedly adult and, she hoped, maybe a little alluring. Her tight red dress and heels made her feel tall, a rarity for her normally 5'4" stature. "You look lovely, dear," said the mirror. "Knock him dead."

Hermione smiled at the mirror and moved on. Although she knew her chances with her professor were so cold they should be measured in Kelvin, she couldn't help wanting him to warm up to her. Perhaps after graduation. Perhaps after Voldemort. Perhaps.

For tonight, she was just going to enjoy being a wallflower.

~~HGSS~~

"You really need to do something with that hair. No, seriously, if you just…Look, I was made to do this, trust me, take the bottle from over there and-"

"I swear to you, if you speak one more word, I will shut your mouth with my fist."

Startled, the mirror grew silent.

With an hour before the students began arriving for the ball, Professor Snape started making himself presentable. Freshly cleaned and pressed, his velvet-lined dress robes were one of his few luxuries. Although he appreciated some of the finer things, his life did not call for much application of them. His daily attire of a soft, white shirt, slightly rough wool jacket, and lightweight robes was practical and suited his needs.

He knew he could never make himself appealing to Hermione Granger. He could never make himself appealing to anyone. But that didn't mean that, tonight at least, he wasn't going to try. Someday, he might deign to tell her of his affection for her. In a very nonchalant, backhanded, Slytherin sort of way, of course. Perhaps after graduation. Perhaps after Voldemort. Perhaps.

With a snarl on his face, he grabbed a length of black cord and began to tie back his hair.

~~HGSS~~

He took his place at the bottom of the stairs, keeping an eye on the students coming down. The majority of the males waited with him. It was tradition that they receive their dates after the girls had made a grand entrance. Minerva would say because it was elegant and chivalrous. He knew it was so they could converse amongst themselves to cover their nervousness while they waited for their often-late dates.

As a student, he had never waited here.

Now, as a professor, he saw it his personal duty to make sure the females were received in the _chivalrous_ manner Minerva thought the occasion should warrant, but often didn't. Too frequently, he had seen hands and lips all over each other before the offending couple could find an appropriate corner for him to scold them out of later.

Scowl on his face from his thoughts of what the night would hold, he saw her approach and descend the stairs with Miss Weasley behind her.

Her tight, red silk dress was pulled into ruffles along one edge of the sheath, with the material gathering around her in the back to make a free-flowing train.

The effect made her look like a present wrapped in red ribbon he couldn't wait to open.

White gloves to her elbows, a string of pearls around her neck, and just a touch of makeup gave her an elegant and classic look. This was a woman. A woman with style, grace, and understated natural beauty.

She turned away from Ginny, laughing, as she glanced down the stairs and saw him staring up at her with a peculiar expression on his face. Her heart stopped, then did somersaults as she locked eyes with him and continued down.

Hermione was having strong flashbacks to her fourth year, only this time, instead of being flattered at the attention, she felt like a sparrow in a cage who wanted to both fly back to her dorm to hide and fly down the stairs and throw herself at him. She settled for giving that same, shy smile and straightening her posture.

As she reached the bottom, she was able to give him just a quick look before being swept off on the other arm of Harry, who was serving as a self-appointed guardian for the evening, even if he was a bit occupied enjoying Ginny in her brushed-gold gown. Together, the three truly looked like a Gryffindor Trio.

Hermione found herself in the mix of people during the ball. Despite coming alone, her friends had each taken at least one turn with her out on the dance floor. Neville had surprised her by doing the Hippogriff to a fast song, while Harry was pleased to show off the waltzing skills she had taught him. So caught up was she in dancing with her friends that she didn't see the man in black watching her surreptitiously.

No matter how hard she was looking for him.

"How are you doing tonight, Hermione?" she heard Harry yell over the loud music.

"Good! I'm fine, honest," she yelled back. "Gives me more time to chaperone."

Harry affectionately rolled his eyes and went once more into the breach in the solid wall of people.

Hermione went for a stroll through the room, making sure the students were on their best behavior, even though they would be leaving first thing in the morning. She nodded at the Aurors who were stationed at the entrances. After the incident at the Ministry her fifth year, she had become all too well-acquainted with Magical Law Enforcement. She had also been questioned about the circumstances surrounding the deaths of Dumbledore and her parents.

Walking down the path outside, she lightly brushed her wand over the tops of the rosebushes as she kept an eye out for amorous couples. After sending a few younger students back to the castle, Hermione rounded the corner to find Draco and Pansy. She had obviously caught them in a tender moment, but she was surprised to see genuine affection as the couple lightly kissed and Draco stroked a lock of Pansy's hair.

Stopping once they saw her, Draco sneered in her direction. "Wonderful. So, how many points will it be, Miss Third Wheel? Detention as well?"

She sighed, knowing in different circumstances, it could very well have been her who had been busted on school grounds. Ron did have a reputation to keep. If Draco had found someone to help him through the aftermath of sixth year, who could also hopefully guide him through this one, she couldn't fault him. And, well, it was Christmas. "Just go up to the castle, Ferret, and take your horse with you."

Just because it was Christmas didn't mean she had to be nice.

With a glare from Pansy and a questioning look from Draco, the couple departed and headed towards the raucous noise. Hermione quickly finished her walk and then returned to the warmth of the castle.

It was nearing the end of the night, and she was starting to feel the day. She crossed her arms, leaning her head on the cool stone wall and watching the crowd. Harry and Ginny, Ron and Lorrell, Neville and Luna, Draco and Pansy. Even Crabbe with Millicent and Ernie McMillan with Lisa Turpin. So many people brought together by their last year and the current troubled times.

The song ended, and she saw a few couples move to get punch or take a break. Ron was still lightly swaying with Lorrell, her head on his shoulder and the train from her gorgeous, midnight-blue ball gown trailing along the floor behind her. Draco whispered something to Pansy and then headed in Hermione's direction. Bristling, she stood her ground.

"You look a bit lonely, Granger. Care to dance?"

"No," she replied, almost before he had finished asking.

He gave a long-suffering sigh. "I'm not being a git, Hermione. I swear on my father. Will you take a dance with me?"

Eyes narrowed, she hesitantly took his hand and allowed him to lead her onto the floor.

Ron and Lorrell were coming off the floor as Draco and Hermione were entering it. Ron took a double-take to see who his friend was dancing with, and it took all Harry had to keep him from going after her.

"I'll kill him! I swear! I'll hex his balls off! I'll-"

"RON! Ron, listen. This is her decision. You have to let her make that choice. If she wants to dance with Draco, let her dance. You know he is with Parkinson, and there isn't much he can do in the middle of a dance floor."

Grumbling, he took Lorrell's hand and pulled her close, not wanting to watch one of their own dancing with one of _them_.

No one still noticed the shadow in the corner who also took a step forward as Draco took Hermione's hand and let her on the floor. How was it that he, the young Malfoy, could even take a dance with her, the loveliest woman in the room while he was regulated to the corner like some errant school boy?

He seethed in anger and annoyance while he watched her flounce around the room.

After half the song had passed without a word from her partner, Hermione finally asked, "What do you want, Draco?"

"A truce."

"I beg your pardon?"

"That's what I want, Granger. A truce. You've known since the beginning of the year that we're on the same side now, and I know I haven't been the most…forthcoming. I would rather work with you than against you."

Wishing she were a Legilimens, she stared into his face, seeing nothing but truth.

"Alright, Draco. Truce," she decided at last, worried that this was going much too easily.

"You're not so bad, Granger."

"Shut up," she told him as he continued to dance with her.

She didn't see the dark figure watching her from the corner of the room, hands clenched into fists. It was not right. It was not proper that she dance with every man in the room save him. She was dancing with Draco! A Malfoy of all people! She had even taken a turn with Flitwick, half bent over to accommodate his stature.

The final song was about to begin, and he heard the Master of Ceremonies, Lee Jordan, make an announcement.

"And now for the final song. Don't dance with the one you came with, and don't dance with someone you have. Pick someone you've never imagined yourself dancing with before. It's time for a little inter-house unity!"

A few of the students groaned as they awkwardly looked for a partner, most not appreciating Lee's sense of humor.

Hermione frowned. "Hmm, well I've already danced with you, and I can't imagine a more unlikely partner," she said with a laugh.

"How about him?" she heard Draco ask with a smirk.

"Who?"

"Would you like to dance?"

Hermione spun around and found herself face-to-face with a wall of black fabric. A gorgeous wall of black fabric. Gazing up at a face much higher than Draco's, she looked into the eyes of her beloved professor.

"Uh, yeah, I guess," Hermione replied, stunned. "I mean - yes, sir. I'd love to."

"No!" she heard Ron cry faintly from the other side of the floor before Harry shushed him.

"Did she say anything when you dated Lavender? Did she hold anything against you for being immediately attracted to Lorrell? No. And you know they're friends. If she doesn't mind, then shut it!" Ginny told him as Harry continued to hold his shoulders.

The music began, and he wrapped his free arm around her back, just high enough to feel the bare skin of her shoulder blades. She tentatively put her arm on his, hand resting on his shoulder under his outer robes. She stared at the spot where the white of her arm was lost to the black of the fabric, not believing this was real. (3)

"'You're in my arms,'" the song began, "'And all the world is calm. The music playing on for only two. So close together, and when I'm with you, so close to feeling alive.'"

He was stiff as he twirled her around, not quite able to relax as he paraded in front of the school, even from this relatively secluded corner.

"'As life goes by, romantic dreams must die so I bid mine goodbye and never knew so close was waiting, waiting here with you, and now, forever I know all that I want is to hold you so close,'" the soulful baritone continued.

He had bid his dreams goodbye as well. Were they waiting here, in the smiling, upturned face of this gorgeous, grating Gryffindor?

"'So close to reaching that famous happy ending, almost believing this one's not pretend, and now you're beside me, and look how far we've come. So far, we are, so close.'"

Only the intoxicating smell of him kept her from holding her breath, praying this wasn't a dream. His strong arm around her, his warm, woolen sleeve beneath her hand, and his smell swirled around her even as she swirled on the dance floor.

He could only hope she couldn't hear the pounding in his chest, as she was level with his heart. He surreptitiously dipped his nose lower to gather a breath full of her sweet, vanilla-scented hair, thankfully untouched by all the wizarding products favored by others of her sex.

Hermione recognized that she quoted one of her favorite movies when she first spoke with him, and she wondered how far she could push it. "How do you do it, sir?"

"One foot in front of the other," his short-circuiting brain automatically supplied for him.

Thankfully, she laughed. "That's not what I mean. Two hundred pairs of eyes are focused on you with two questions on their minds: has Hermione lost her mind, and why is Professor Snape dancing with her?"

He looked at her intently. "I doubt anyone is looking at me. Not when paired with you. And the answers to their questions are: I highly doubt it, and because she said yes."

One part of said mind hoped it didn't show, and the other part realized that, for the first time, she was truly in love.

"Your dress is becoming," he told her.

"Thank you. It was my mother's from when she was my age. I'm glad you tied back your hair," she said, lightly fingering a loose strand. "It's nice to be able to see your face."

The eyes in that face glittered like coal, and she felt herself being pulled almost imperceptibly closer. His hand lightly touched a tendril of her hair as well before one finger gently caressed her cheek.

"'How could I face the faceless days if I should lose you now? We're so close to reaching that famous happy ending, almost believing this one's not pretend. Let's go on, on dreaming, for we know we are  
so close…so close…and still so far.'"

**A/N: **The movie Hermione quotes is The American President.

Hermione's dress: http:/ /i47. photobucket .com /albums /f196 /Cybrokat /hermdress .jpg

**Teaser:** _If you are reading this, it means we have passed on. Please do not grieve, dear, for if we have passed from this world, we are together in the next, and we only regret not being able to see you. _


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: **Love to my beta, Liongirl, and my brit-picker, shuldham. The girls keep my on my toes! Pregnancy is going well, terribly tired. First ultrasound is the 21st.

Thank you to those who have added me to your favorites list. Thank you more to those who review. Though the story is finished, I don't consider a chapter complete until I post it, and I tweak things based on feedback.

**Playlist:** http: / /www .youtube .com/watch?v=O6G3v0WBKG8&feature=PlayList&p=855FE8BFD0C5C3B4&playnext_from=PL&index=0&playnext=1

**Chapter Sixteen**

Christmas! Hermione practically leapt out of bed.

Then she remembered that there would be no care package from her parents. None of her mother's homemade sweets, no new set of robes, no fresh ink and parchment.

She slowly sat back on the bed with an ache in her chest before standing up again and heading resolutely downstairs. Their absence hurt, but she knew her parents would be more upset with her if she let it ruin her day.

Christmas had been big in the Granger house, her father becoming five years old again every time the snow rolled in and he could light up the house. Full-sized Grinch, inflatable snowmen, lights all over the modest two-story home.

She didn't know why she bothered to get dressed before heading down to the common room. The only students still there were her and the snoring redhead in the other bed.

Ginny had opted to stay at Hogwarts with Hermione. Everyone was going to be home for Christmas this year – besides Percy, of course. Bill and Fleur were coming in, Charlie had managed to get the time for a holiday, Harry would be there, and Lorrell had been invited to stay as well. With Fred, George, and Ron, even a magical house would become crowded.

Hermione had been invited to come as well, Mrs. Weasley holding no grudge against the girl who had dated her son, but Hermione felt it wouldn't be prudent. Lorrell needed to get to know his family if she was going to be dating Ron. They were a huge gravitational force for him, pulling him back home whenever he got the chance. She knew that Lorrell wouldn't get to really know them if Hermione was there, since she and his family had six years of very complicated history.

Ginny had realized Hermione was feeling a bit out of place and had offered to stay with her, claiming Lorrell could use her room while she was gone. She hadn't wanted Hermione to be alone on her first Christmas. Hermione didn't mind solitude, but no one should be alone during the holidays.

The girls had made the most of the two weeks that had passed in between the Yule Ball and Christmas morning. The first thing they had done, at Hermione's insistence, was finish all their holiday homework. They had both had a few essays to complete, and Hermione had been able to help Ginny with a few of the subjects she was struggling in, as well as getting about a month ahead in the reading for her own classes.

The girls had also enjoyed having some time to themselves. It wasn't often – never, really – that the two could talk freely or spend time together without the presence of Harry and Ron, at the very least. They found themselves talking about growing up in magical versus non-magical families, Ron, Harry, and other classmates, and even what they wanted to do after Hogwarts.

Hermione talked to Ginny about staying on to teach Transfiguration. She was still ecstatic about being the next McGonagall, even if she knew she would never be as much of a legend in the classroom as the headmistress. No one knew Transfiguration like she did, and Hermione could not express her joy enough at being under her tutelage.

Ginny confessed it was going to be strange having her friend teach her in the classroom. "Just please don't dock points if I slip up and call you Hermione!"

Hermione laughed and promised not to, as long as it didn't become a habit.

"Aren't you scared?" Ginny asked her.

"More than you know," Hermione told her in confidence. "I never, ever expected this to be my job when I graduated. I had planned on attending a wizarding university or becoming an apprentice or going to work for the Ministry. Ron and Harry are going to be Aurors, but I have had enough of Dark Magic for one lifetime, thank you. I thought about work in the Magical Creatures division, but it's so limiting. I would love to be able to help assist all the house elves and werewolves and vampires, but right now, my own people need me more, and I can't think of anything more rewarding than helping to guide the next generations of witches and wizards. Imagine, Gin, if we could get the Houses to truly work together, what that would mean for society. You're not going to be able to change the minds of people like Lucius Malfoy, but you can change their children and their children's children."

"You're going to be a great mum," Ginny told her, and Hermione laughed at the abrupt change in subject. "I'm serious!" Ginny continued. "You'll have a child in each house, each of whom can already recite the handbook and the history, plowing through Potions and prejudice."

"Thank you, Ginny…I think," Hermione said, giving the redhead a baffled smile.

Ginny also confessed to Hermione about Harry. They had had a long talk after the Yule Ball in the common room. They were officially dating now, and Harry had told her that he didn't care who knew it. He had apologized for being a git and making her wait so long, which she had graciously accepted…after a good, long snog and several repetitions of the apology, one of which had involved him forming it into a poem and another which had had him on bended knee.

"That's wonderful, Ginny!" Hermione exclaimed, giving her friend one of her trademark hugs.

Ginny worried her lip. "You're not angry?"

"Why would I possibly be angry? It's about bloody time you two got together!"

"Well, it's just, you're one of the only single people left, Hermione. Soon, all the good ones will be taken, or gay like Goyle."

"First of all, Goyle isn't a 'good one,' so it doesn't matter what his orientation is. Second, I think everyone's definition of a good partner is different. I wouldn't want to date Harry, for example, and it didn't work out for Ron and me. I'm a pretty peculiar person, and it will probably take another pretty peculiar person to put up with me. But, everyday I'm one day closer to him, Ginny. It doesn't matter if I meet him tomorrow, or five years from now, or," Hermione said with a sigh, "if I've met him already. It'll happen, and I can wait patiently until then. No use dating just to date when I know that the guy isn't who I'm looking for."

"You're an odd duck, Miss Hermione Granger, but I love you anyway. Dad has basically declared us sisters, so I suppose I can't get rid of you."

"I love you too, Gin."

"So, about this dance with Professor Snape…"

~~HGSS~~

Severus Snape rolled over in bed, chagrined to see he had awoken at his usual six in the morning, even on Christmas. His sleep was becoming troublesome again, most of last night having been spent in a chair in front of the fire. It was about time to see Hermione again. Not, of course, that he minded, but he was hesitant to bother her on Christmas. He didn't know what her usual holiday consisted of, and he didn't want to be a burden or a bother. He would have spoken to her sooner, but he was pleased to note that the dance at the Yule Ball had provided him with a solid week of restful slumber.

And several nights longer of other…assistance. In fact, parts of him were clamoring to think of her right now, but he was still fighting against having such thoughts about an unwary student. It felt like a violation of her person, and that was the last thing he ever wanted to do.

But some nights, he couldn't help himself.

Damn her for wearing such a gown! And for looking at him with such eyes! And for being such a companion to him that he felt he could let down a bit of his guard with her. Damn her for being Hermione Granger!

He had admittedly surprised himself that night when he had walked over and asked for her hand. He was pretty sure his feet and his mouth had moved of their own accord, knowing what needed to be done even as his brain had continued to fume over the image of her with Draco. Never had he been so pleased to lose that bit of control, as she had elegantly accepted his hand in hers and allowed him to lead her onto the floor, unnoticing or uncaring of the looks and gasps from the students, her friends, and the staff.

Knowing there was no more sleep to be had for him this night, he pulled on last night's trousers over his undershorts, ran a hand through his lank hair, and padded barefoot into the sitting room to open his meager pile of presents.

His usual gifts, he could tell by the wrapping, although a few looked decidedly different. He opened the expected ones first – charmed vials from Flitwick that didn't break when dropped by dunderheads, sweets and Firewhiskey from most of the staff, cakes and pie in abundance from Mrs. Weasley. She was forever complaining he was too skinny, even if he had put on just under a stone since the end of last term.

Most of which, he was loathe to admit, had come from the nights he spent with Hermione, which had caused his appetite to finally make a reappearance.

He lifted the two gifts that were not the usual shape and size. Inside one he was pleased to find several Fwooper quills of his own from Hagrid, with some rock cakes and biscuits. These he immediately tossed into the fire as he read the card Hagrid had included.

_Profesor – Happee to have you back. Please take these as a token of appresheashun for your work with special birds. Miss Granger still uses the ones you gave her. - Hagrid_

He couldn't help but form a small smirk of affection for the kind, bumbling half-giant. He was surprised at the clever wording of the missive. Special birds indeed, he thought, as he considered his time with the Order of the Phoenix. He stroked a quill fondly and picked up his other gift.

Noting it was from McGonagall, he opened it to find a new evening jacket, a bottle of fine wine with two glasses, and a certificate for a few of the finer vendors in Hogsmeade.

Thinking she had really outdone herself this year and that this must be an apology of some sort, he then considered all of the gifts as a whole.

It was everything he would need for a date.

Startled, he almost dropped the fragile basket on the floor. Did she know? How could she possibly know anything? It wasn't like he had stepped outside his boundaries. Nothing had happened between the two, there was nothing for her to see. She wasn't a Legilimens or a scryer!

…But she had replaced Dumbledore, who had had a tendency to know even one's most tightly held secrets. How was he to know how the old man had come to be in possession of his knowledge?

And even if she did know, this gift was not a warning to tread lightly, was it?

Perplexed, he laid the gift back beside his mantle and went to focus on something more concrete – grading.

~~HGSS~~

Hermione was curled up in a chair when Ginny finally roused herself from bed. The petite witch threw herself at her sleepy friend with an exclamation of "Happy Christmas!"

"Happy Christmas to you too, but you're mad. Why are you awake so early?" asked Ginny, rubbing her eyes as she went to sort out her gifts from Hermione's.

"It's Christmas! Even my love of sleep takes a hiatus on Christmas."

The girls sat down and began to open their gifts.

Both received traditional Weasley sweaters from Mrs. Weasley, and the girls agreed that she had given them a bit more sweets than normal, but neither was complaining.

Hermione choked up a little when she saw that there was a box from McGonagall for her. Inside, she found ink, parchment, a new teaching robe, and some sweets from Honeyduke's.

She received a few books from the boys, a book of music from Ginny, and, she was pleased to note, a few small gifts from her teachers with messages of support for her upcoming year.

Ginny was overwhelmed to receive her owl from Hermione. "I couldn't possibly accept this, Hermione! He must have cost a fortune!"

"I can afford it, Ginny, I promise you," Hermione assured her in a voice that reminded her of Harry. That was another thing they now had in common. Both war-orphaned teenage wizards sitting on piles of cash with no family to spend it on.

If she woke up with a scar on her forehead or a sudden need to play Quidditch, she was checking into St. Mungo's.

Ginny opened her gift from Harry and, Hermione noted, nearly fainted. Inside was a small band of gold with a heart-shaped ruby flanked by two small diamonds. The ring was modest but elegant and clearly stated Harry's intentions toward her. Hermione had to deal with the onslaught of happy tears from her overjoyed friend, and she silently cursed Harry for not giving it to her when he himself was present to deal with the aftermath.

All the gifts now open, Hermione was puzzled to see a single envelope fall from the sparse pine the girls had used as a Christmas tree.

_Hermione_, it read simply.

Sitting in a chair, she opened the envelope and began to read.

_Our dearest Hermione_,

Hermione gasped and covered her mouth as she recognized her father's elegant hand.

_If you are reading this, it means we have passed on. Please do not grieve, dear, for if we have passed from this world, we are together in the next, and we only regret not being able to see you. _

_If we were killed, please do not think for one moment that we ever regret letting you attend Hogwarts. You have blossomed into a beautiful and talented witch, and we are proud to call you our daughter. We have lived very full and happy lives, and nothing could please a parent more than to know they have given their child the best chance of doing the same. You were a blessing, Hermione Jean, and we would give up much more than our lives for you. _

_We hope that we have given you a firm foundation for the trials of adulthood and independence. You have always been headstrong and resourceful, but, just in case, we have asked that the Weasleys look in on you. Please don't be angry, dear, but we couldn't rest comfortably knowing our daughter had no one to turn to with us gone. They both assured us that they would take you in and raise you as their own should anything ever happen. _

_All we ask of you, my dear, is to continue being the daughter we raised. Remembe, when in doubt to do the positive and treat others well, regardless of their conduct or their past, for we know not where the future will lead us and it's better to have friends than enemies. Kismet, my dear. We never know when it will find us. _

_Have fun, study, brush your teeth, and reach for the stars. You've always accomplished anything you set your mind to, and your mother and I know that you will always be able to. Any choice you make for a career is wonderful to us if it makes you happy. _

_We hope you find someone to love and someone who loves you in return. Don't settle for less than the person who makes you smile with just the mention of his or her name. You know these things don't come easy, but I promise you, no effort will be wasted if you invest it into a happy home. And if you work as hard at that as you do at everything else, your home will surely be blessed indeed. _

_Love, my dear. Love is all you need. _

_We will miss seeing you, Hermione, as you fulfill the promises we see in you already. You will always have our love and support. _

_Love always, _

_Mum and Dad_

Hermione was fairly certain her sobs could be heard from Hogsmeade. She grieved for her parents as she had not allowed herself to until now, even if she had felt blessed, so blessed, to have them as hers. Quality over quantity, her father would say, and they had certainly been quality.

Ginny had not read the letter but still held her friend as she cried, just as Hermione had recently held Ginny.

"I have to go," Hermione told Ginny. "I have to get out of here. I'm sorry."

Hermione pushed off the chair and away from her baffled friend as she grabbed her pack and made haste out of the portrait hole and down the hallway.

Ginny stared after the retreating form of her friend. Suddenly, she had a moment of female intuition. Her mother did always used to say that Ginny had a bit of Seer in her blood.

Ginny thought back to two weeks past. If Hermione didn't want to talk to her, perhaps there was another in whom she would be willing to confide. Someone in whose arms she had certainly appeared to be at ease.

She went up to Hermione's dorm and found the Galleon Harry had told her Hermione and Snape used to keep in touch.

~~HGSS~~

Snape felt his pocket warm and instantly thanked the girl for her wonderful timing.

He frowned as he read the message.

_I'd go find Hermione._

_Where is she? _he replied.

_Unknown. Library or your usual is my guess. _

Not bothering to respond, he dropped the Galleon into his pocket – the pocket that did not already contain his gift to her – and headed out the door as though he were trailed by Fluffy.

He searched through every stack, every nook and cranny in the library with no sign of anyone, let alone a particular woman. Now almost in a panic, for he had not thought to ask the mysterious sender _why_ he should go find Hermione, he continued his frantic run through the castle.

He reached the Room of Requirement, paced three times in record time, and ran through the door, only to almost collapse from relief as he saw her curly hair and one knee poking out from one of the chairs.

Then he heard her anguished cry, and he now understood why she had come to hug him in the past. He found himself propelled towards her, arms wrapping around her and pulling her body close.

Hermione had been sitting in the chair with her knees drawn to her chest, arms around her legs as she rested her face between her knees to cry. She had not heard him enter, but she knew who it was as soon as he pulled her to him. She allowed him to do so and put her arms around him with her head in the crook of his neck to continue her outpouring of grief.

He knew not how long he knelt there, knees protesting against the cold, hard stone floor, holding his love as she cried. And he didn't care. He would be there as long as she wanted him to be.

Eventually her sobs became cries, which became whimpers, which settled into sniffles.

"I'm…I'm so…so sorry," she tried to say. "I didn't mean to…oh, look at your robes…"

"Hush," _love_, "you needn't worry about my robes. I am a wizard, capable of performing a cleansing charm." He demonstrated his magical prowess as he cast one over them both without dislodging her from where she rested against his chest.

Her breathing was still labored, but she was calming down and taking comfort in the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, a magical music all its own.

Severus didn't know the cause of her tears but was focused on making them cease. Presents, right? Women liked presents.

"I brought you a gift," she heard him say as she guiltily enjoyed the soothing rumble from within his chest as he spoke. Registering his words, she pushed off his chest to look him in the face.

"A gift? For what?"

"And to think they call you the brightest witch of your age," he told her.

Without ceremony, he handed her a small box.

Hermione glanced at him with trepidation and slowly opened the box. "Oh, it's exquisite!" she exclaimed as she pulled out a tiny, palm-sized, baby grand piano attached to a key ring. She held it up for closer inspection and noticed it was, as far as she could tell, a perfect replica. "This is really impressive," she told him. "Thank you so much. I feel like I should find a needle and see if the keys really work."

He was smirking, and he told her to hold it out in her palm and tap it with her wand.

She did so, and screamed.

The tiny piano in her hand wobbled back and forth as is started to grow. She let it drop to the floor as it became too heavy and watched it in awe as it grew into a full-sized, pristine chamber grand.

She struggled for breath as she walked toward it, one hand outstretched, as if approaching a wild animal. Gingerly she stroked the outside casing all the way around as she took a turn, examining it from all angles.

"Is it…is it real?"

"It is."

"Oh my gosh. And this is _mine_? You got this for me? I cannot possibly accept this. It's way too much. It's gorgeous, but no. No! I can't!" She realized she was babbling, diarrhea of the mouth as her mother would say, but she couldn't help it. Her day had been an emotional rollercoaster, and she was barely hanging on. She realized her brain-to-mouth filter was dangerously close to collapse.

"It is not too much, and I won't take the troublesome thing back, so you may as well accept it."

"Where did you get this?" she asked him, still incredulous.

"The back parlor in the otherwise rather dismal family abode I, for some reason, have not yet sold."

Her eyes, if possible, grew wider. "This is a family heirloom?"

He spoke over her chant of "nonononono." "It is, but it has not been touched in two generations. The last person I remember ever touching that piano was my maternal grandmother. She passed when I was nine. As I am the last in my family, no one will miss it, I assure you. I simply had it restored and brought it to where it will get some use and get out of my house." He could not tell her that he had spent over a month pouring over the perfect gift and then had paid that month's salary finding the perfect person to gently, accurately, and perhaps a bit magically, restore his piano to prime condition so that it would hopefully meet her expectations. He did not expect to replace her beloved Steinway from her parents, but he could gift her with a real piano with which to ply her talent, something tangible to call her own that she wouldn't have to transfigure.

"You have helped me more than I can possibly express, Miss Granger, as well as the wizarding world. If it soothes you, I'll send the bill to the Ministry when this war is over. I'm sure with our involvement, they will not protest."

She smile at him and asked, "Why did you do this?"

"Why did you give a Slytherin a quill?" he retorted with a shrug.

Her tears currently forgotten, she laughed lightly. "That sounds like a bad joke."

She was still touching the piano, one hand on the frame while the other stroked the cool, smooth keys. "I can really keep it?" she whispered.

He nodded. "Please do."

"Can I play on it?"

He waved his hand in the general direction of the gleaming instrument.

She pulled out a few pieces from her chess set, including her replacement singer after her king had gone missing in action. This was a rather melodramatic black knight. He walked to the edge of the piano, dramatically flourished his sword, and began belting out warm-ups.

"I think he watched too much Monty Python," Hermione told her professor apologetically.

She and the knight, a classic baritone and very Dean Martin, began to sing a few holiday tunes. (1)

"'I really can't stay,'" Hermione began.

"'But baby, it's cold outside,'" the knight answered her.

"'I've got to go away.'"

"'But baby, it's cold outside.'"

"'This evening has been so very nice.'"

"'I'll hold your hands, they're just like ice.'" The knight grabbed her finger in his two hands, and the small ensemble continued to play behind her.

Snape listened to them continue the song, reflecting that he never would have believed someone telling him this is how he would spend his Christmas, with good music and a lovely woman who was as happy as he believed he had ever made someone.

"'I wish I knew how…,'" she sang.

"'Your eyes are like starlight now,'" sang the smarmy little knight.

"'…to break this spell.'"

"'I'll take your hat; your hair looks swell.'"

"'I ought to say, "No, no, no, sir."'"

"'Mind if I move in closer?'" The knight was sitting on the edge of the piano, singing his little sycophantic heart out.

"'At least I'm gonna say that I tried,'" she told him, smiling. She obviously enjoyed singing with her little partner.

"'What's the sense in hurtin' my pride?'"

"'I really can't stay.'"

"'Oh baby, don't hold out.'"

The professor's eyes narrowed at the insinuation of pressing for a woman's virtue as both sang, "'Baby, it's cold outside.'"

The duo finished the rest of the song, and while he could sympathize with worrying about talk the morning after, he still couldn't shake the feeling that watching the knight was like watching a singing statue of Gilderoy Lockhart. He also wondered where his own little statue had run off to.

She pulled out her full set for the next song and set the black knight back in his spot, much to his dismay. He had clearly enjoyed being in the spotlight. (2)

Instead of a guitar, she played an intro softly on her new piano and sang in a low, soulful, and breathy voice. "'When the bells all ring and the horns all blow, and the couples we know are fondly kissing, will I be with you or will I be among the missing?'"

Snape was now completely mindful only of the voice of pure seduction crooning from the bench of his piano. The full orchestra began as the song started its traditional beginning.

"'Maybe it's much too early in the game, ooh, but I thought I'd ask you just the same. What are you doing New Year's…New Year's Eve?'"

It's not too early, his brain supplied. I have no plans. I'm open to ideas.

"'Wonder whose arms will hold you good and tight when it's exactly twelve o'clock that night, welcoming in the New Year, New Year's Eve.'"

Arms were not the only thing good and tight, he thought as he shifted in his seat. He was imagining her in that dress, underneath the mistletoe, his lips against hers as the clock chimed. He felt the blush creep up his cheeks as he pictured the fabric sliding between them while his hands ran up her back and her arms held him closer.

It was Christmas. Anyone was allowed to dream today.

"'Maybe I'm crazy to suppose I'd ever be the one you chose out of a thousand invitations you received,'" she sang, wondering how many invites he had received for the holidays. Did he have friends outside the school? Did the staff meet to celebrate? Would he be spending the evening with the Malfoys, rubbing elbows with some of the richest and most beautiful people in their society? Not to mention powerful and dangerous.

And she, just a paltry seventeen-year-old student, wishing she could be the only invitation that mattered.

"'Ooh, but in case I stand one little chance, here comes the jackpot question in advance: What are you doing New Year's, New Year's Eve?'"

He was aware he was almost panting in his desire for her, and he had to think of several extremely unpleasant images before he attempted to speak.

_Naked Minerva_, his mind supplied. _Draco and Harry caught in the Quidditch shed. Neville in his grandmother's vulture hat._

"Will you play for the staff gathering?" he blurted out.

"I…I…well, I didn't know there would be a staff gathering."

"They don't usually discuss it until after we get through Christmas, but, yes, those of us without family will be here for New Year's, and I ask that you play for us. I would be honored to have you display your gift with your gifts."

Blushing to the roots of her hair, she nodded her acceptance.

"I, um, I got you a gift too. It's not, well, it's not as fine as this," she said, giving the piano another loving rub, "but I hope you like it."

She pulled a small, slender box adorned with a simple silver bow out of her bag and handed it to him.

He wondered what she would possibly get him and opened the box to reveal a thin, light tan wand. He lifted it out and examined it closely.

"Give it a wave," she offered.

He did so and was surprised to hear music fill the air. Her music.

"It's charmed. I got the idea from a Muggle music player. I know that I can't be with you every night, so I made this for if you need me and for some reason I'm not available. It's not that I mind playing for you, trust me. But meeting every night would be a little too evident to the students. So, anyway," she said, mindful of her babbling again, "this is charmed with about twenty-five songs on it. I might be able to expand it, but it's a first try, and I only had a limited amount of time. The chess set helped me play and record them, and I picked out ones it seemed like you enjoyed. A few of the Whitacre pieces are on there, Liszt, Rachmaninov, Matsui, and more. And your song, of course," she finished with a bit of blush.

He looked down to admire her talent. The idea that she had spent hours on this, possibly days, so that he would be able to listen whenever he wished touched him more than he could say. This was a very thoughtful and personal gift, and he mused that this was his best Christmas yet. "Thank you, Hermione. It is very kind of you."

She beamed at the words of praise from him, her professor and her heart's desire. "You're very welcome. Here, let me show you how to use it."

She demonstrated that by flicking it up or down, he could change the volume, and by waving it back and forth, he could flick through the songs. Turning it off required an easy Finite Incantatem. It was as simple as it was brilliant.

He showed her the spell that would return her piano back to the miniature and told her that it would only respond to her. It was as simple as it was brilliant.

She returned to her dormitory light on her feet, and Ginny couldn't get a hold of her to find out the true reason why.

**Teaser:** Only realizing what was about to happen milliseconds before it actually did, Hermione closed her wide eyes and lifted her chin in expectation.


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: **Here is the long awaited chapter. I hope it meets your expectations. My first baby appointment is tomorrow, and I'll post and update for those Father's Day, everyone! Oh, and I tweaked Katie Bell's age. In the movie, she is shown as a 6th year in Slughorn's class with the trio and I just kept her there since this is movie canon compliant, not book canon.

Playlist: http:/ /www .youtube .com/watch?v=F4InRt8MOQI

Alternate video if you can't see mine: http:/ /www .youtube .com/watch?v=gR85R1sv94g&feature=fvst

Just the one song. I'm assuming we all know the second.

**BABY UPDATE:** Ultrasound today. All looks well. Photos on my FB and there is a video of the heartbeat as well. http:/ /www .facebook .?aid=2427810&id=21715679&l=1f0cc05742

**Chapter Seventeen**

Almost a week had passed, and Ginny still wouldn't let it go. She was like a house elf with a sock.

"I know there is more than you are telling, Hermione," she insisted.

"I told you, Ginny. He gave me a gift. You know how I feel about music. Why is it so hard to understand that I would be this excited about a piano?" Hermione inquired as the girls walked to the Great Hall for another lonely lunch. With only eight students in the castle, and approximately that many professors, they had condensed to one table. It was terribly hard for her to keep from staring at him the entire meal, questioning his motives and intentions.

"Because, Hermione. I know you. I've known you for years. I watched you fall in and out of love with my brother close up, firsthand. And that look. I know that look, Hermione. I patented that look when I followed behind Harry bloody Potter since before I even came to Hogwarts! That look says there is a boy, and he is the cat's meow, Hermione. I must know what happened." Ginny stopped in the hallway, demanding an explanation.

"Nothing happened, Ginny. I swear. I was upset. I talked to him a bit. We exchanged gifts, and I came back. You are now completely up to speed."

Hermione continued to walk toward the hall, and after Ginny realized she was not turning back, she decided to follow, yelling after her friend, "I know you're keeping something from me!"

Ginny had caught up by the time they reached the large double doors, and Hermione turned to her, telling her, "Look, he's a friend now, alright? We're friends. And I know that sounds incredibly strange, being friends with Professor Snape. It's strange to me too, but I'm enjoying it, even before he gave me an heirloom piano. He can be funny and kind, and he's brilliant. He appreciates my music, and he is a great listener, so you're just going to have to deal with it, and I'm not telling you anything more."

Ginny sighed and tossed back her long red hair before heading in for lunch. Hermione stood in the hallway, arms crossed, in a bit of a snit now that her friend had just had to keep pushing the issue.

"And how are you doing on the last day of this year, Miss Granger?"

Hermione spun around to see the visage of her departed headmaster watching her from the familiar painting across from the entrance to the Great Hall.

"As well as can be expected, sir," she told him.

"And how are things with Professor Snape?"

Startled, she told him, "I don't know. I haven't really talked to him in a week." She really did miss those meetings.

Dumbledore chuckled and rephrased his question. "I mean, how are your meetings? Is it still helping him sleep? Are you two no longer enemies?" He had to ask, to hear it from her himself, even though he had overheard the conversation between herself and Miss Weasley.

"We were never enemies, sir. I've never hated him. My hate is reserved for those who are truly deserving of it. But no, there is no animosity between us. As far as he has told me, he is still sleeping well, and the times we spend together are growing further apart, which I suppose is a good sign if he needs me less."

"Ah, my dear, I believe the opposite may, in fact, be the case. Have a splendid repast." And with that, he strolled out of the frame, whistling what sounded like "Bonnie Scotland."

Shaking her head at the strange old man in the painting, she joined Ginny.

To Hermione, it seemed like the rest of the day was on fast forward. Soon, she felt the déjà vu of Ginny helping her once again into her red dress and telling her about a letter she had received from home.

"Mum and Dad are absolutely beside themselves, Hermione. What did you give them for Christmas?"

"Nothing they didn't deserve or need, Ginny. Why? What did they say?" Hermione asked as Ginny zipped the long zipper behind her.

"Just to tell you that they can't possibly keep it, and if they did, they wouldn't know what to do with it. You didn't get anything from Hagrid, did you, Hermione? The Fwooper quills weren't too bad, but who knows what is going to hatch out of the giant green eggs he thinks he's hiding behind his hut!"

Laughing, Hermione told her, "No, I promise you I am not so thick that I would give your parents something unknown from Hagrid!"

Hermione took Ginny by the hand and guided her to the edge of her bed. The two girls sat down for what instantly became a serious discussion.

"You remember how at the beginning of the year, there were a few times I was called to the headmistress?"

Ginny nodded.

"Well, part of that, of course, was to discuss my upcoming time at the castle. But part of that was to discuss my parents and what they left for me."

Ginny waited patiently as her friend went and pulled out a sheet of paper and gave it to her. Giving Hermione a questioning look, she began to read.

"_Our dearest Hermione_,"

Eyes wide, she looked up at her friend and then went back to the letter.

By the time she finished, she was relieved she hadn't had any makeup on yet because her tears were running rivers down her porcelain face. "They gave you this? On Christmas? Oh, Hermione," she said, enveloping her friend in a hug. "No wonder you had to leave. I hope you didn't mind me sending Snape after you."

Hermione started. Until this moment, it had never occurred to her to think about how he had known she was there. She had just accepted it. "No, Ginny. It was the best thing for me. He really is a good friend. He just held me and let me get my cry out."

"He held you? Oh dear Mer-" Ginny cut herself off with a very deep inhale, mentally counting to ten. She did not want to lose her best girlfriend over her new friendship with the professor. And Hermione was not the kind of girl to be abused for anything more than Charms notes. She was a quiet and studious bookworm who did not flaunt sexuality or seduction. She was probably the best person Snarky Snape could have chosen for a friend. In a way, she respected him more if this was who he had chosen as his friend and confidante, especially if he was treating her as well as Hermione thought he was.

And the piano was really sweet, honestly. The gifting of an heirloom was quite serious in the wizarding world, and Ginny doubted Hermione realized it. Well, she figured, either he was banking on her Muggle past not reading too much into it, or he was going to explain it himself. Either way, Ginny would stay mum – for now.

Carefully wording her statement, she told her friend, "I'm glad that he was there for you."

Beaming, Hermione patted her friend's hand. "Thank you, Gin. And back to the subject at hand, as you can see in the letter, my parents had planned for your parents to look after me if anything happened to them." Suddenly having a realization, she asked Ginny, "Is that okay? My being a Weasley? I mean, not officially, of course, but being around for family things and such?"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Hermione, you already are anyway, and Dad has already declared you as family. I'd trade Percy for you any day. And probably Ron too."

Hermione gave her a quick hug. "So, I didn't know about your parents at first, of course, not until Christmas, but at the beginning of term, we had to settle my parents' estate." Hermione took a deep breath. "It turns out that my parents were more prepared for this than I could have ever expected. We sold the house and the practice, and both of them had a life insurance policy." At Ginny's confused look, she explained that it was when Muggles would receive money for descendants after an untimely death. "So now it appears as though I have wealth enough to rival a Malfoy, and the first thing I did was start a scholarship fund for students here at Hogwarts. The second was to send a sizable chunk to your family."

Ginny gasped. "How much did you send them, Hermione?"

"Enough," she responded vaguely. "They could move, if they liked. Or redo the house. Or spend a year in Calcutta, I don't care." She gave Ginny a sorrowful look. "I just didn't want them to want for anything. Not after stepping into the lives of two Voldemort orphans."

"You realize they are going to throw a fit, right?"

Hermione sighed. "I know it won't be easy to convince them to accept it, but I'm not taking it back. It's been directly deposited into their Gringotts account. I don't care if I have to tell them it's what my parents would have wanted – I mean, they did choose your parents for family – or to consider it as payment for services rendered for watching over me. It's no less than they deserve."

"Hermione, you are the best big sister ever."

"Thanks, Ginny. Just don't tell Malfoy I had to buy my way into a Pureblood family."

The girls laughed and continued getting ready for the New Year's party.

~~HGSS~~

Arriving in the staff room, they found a very festive atmosphere. As the only upperclassmen at the castle, they were welcome to enjoy the party and to entertain. The other students were mostly first and second years, and there was a small gathering for them in the Divination classroom, with Professor Trelawney offering predictions for the upcoming year (which, conveniently of course, kept Trelawney away from the staff room as well).

Filch was spending the evening in Madam Pince's quarters, apparently, so the party was only about ten people, including the girls. When they entered, they saw the staff dressed in their finest, many as they had been at the Yule Ball. Flitwick had already dipped into the punch and was chatting loudly with Professor Miller about the status of little people in the Ministry. Tonks had brought Lupin as her date, and they were at a table with Professor Vector. Professor Burbage, Hermione was pleased to see, had taken the holidays with her family, as had Professor Sinistra. McGonagall came quickly to meet the pair as they walked in, Hermione just briefly catching a glimpse of black robes in a solitary chair by the fire.

They each poured a glass of the warm red punch, enjoying the slightly spiced apple drink. Grabbing a plate of refreshments for them to share, they found a small sofa to sit and chat. Hermione admired the subtle elegance of the decorations around her. Just a few sprigs of mistletoe and poinsettia. A holly wreath and gold trim. This was definitely not the work of a Dumbledore.

It didn't take long before Hermione was ready to show off her piano, and she promised Ginny she would play for a while before asking her to sing.

Ginny had been, at first, extremely adamant against joining her in front of the staff. Only Hermione's constant reassurances that she was, in fact, an excellent singer had made her agree. Much better than Hermione herself.

Ginny's solid alto came as a beautiful contrast to Hermione's breathy second soprano. It was a happy accident, really. Since Ginny was the only friend of Hermione's here, her options had been extremely limited. It was either Ginny or perform alone. Hermione was not a confident singer, so having someone with her eased her fears. She could have just played the piano all night, but she wanted to change up the performance a bit and give Ginny a chance to shine alone.

They had only had a week to work together, but they had managed to find a few songs that worked with their voices and only needed minor accompaniment. It wasn't like they had had anything else to do, so they could practice as much as needed.

Back at the party, Hermione slipped behind the chair her professor was in. He hadn't spoken to anyone thus far, and she didn't even think he knew she was there. In fact, she knew she had surprised him when he jumped as she whispered, "Can I use my new piano?"

Secretly pleased, he turned his head to look up at her, and he found that her fragrance was as fresh as her flawless, feminine face. He was fixated on her festive fashion and slightly flustered flesh.

Fuck.

Flitwick's frumpy frock! He was even cussing alliteratively!

With a slight glare, he answered with a hint of menace, "If you keep the origin quiet."

Hermione was pleased as she walked away, but he still heard her murmur, "Oh, then I'll cancel the banner."

Fiesty.

She spoke softly to Minerva before enlarging her piano.

"Wonderful, Miss Granger!" exclaimed Professor Flitwick. "A splendid display of magic!"

"Thank you, Professor," she said, "but this is not my work. It was a gift."

"Oh, someone was thinking a great deal about you, Hermione. That must have taken several weeks or several Galleons!" the professor told her, laughing so hard at his tipsy wit that he was holding his stomach like Santa.

"I hope so, sir. I happen to think he's pretty special too." She looked up to where she knew Professor Snape was listening to every word and smiled at the back of the chair.

She sat at the bench that came with the piano, performed a few quick warm-ups for her wintery fingers, and played a few classical melodies, including some she had played for her professor. She took a few requests, surprised anyone knew the songs, and left a few of her books on the piano if someone wanted to leaf through them.

Finally, she coaxed her friend to join her.

She began her piano arrangement of the "Flower Duet," still not comfortable flashing around her chess set. (1)

"'Sous le dôme épais où le blanc jasmine a la rose s'assemble. Sur la rive en fleurs, riant au matin viens, descendons ensemble.'"

Hermione had no idea who spoke French amongst her professors, but it sounded pretty, it wouldn't offend, and – most of all – it worked for their voices. It had been very difficult to find a few duets that were not for a true soprano. It was not that she couldn't hit a few of the higher notes if she warmed up, she just didn't want to. They weren't nearly as strong as her lower register.

"'Doucement glissons de son flot charmant. Suivons le courant fuyant dans l'onde frémissante d'une main nonchalante. Viens, gagnons le bord, où la source dort et l'oiseau, l'oiseau chante.'"

The young women continued their song, and Hermione was extremely pleased that Ginny had lent her lovely voice to the party. Hermione was by no means an awful vocalist, but she knew Ginny possessed the real talent and was happy to play alongside her.

They looked lovely, paired together in their gold and red, Ginny leaning against Hermione's piano like she was singing in a swanky club. The longer they sang, the quieter conversation became, and soon there was none at all as the few remaining staff members were gathered in a small circle around them.

Even Professor Snape's chair had managed a three-quarter turn.

"'Sous le dôme épais où le blanc jasmine. Ah, descendons ensemble!'" they finished together to boisterous applause from their little audience.

Ginny suddenly seemed to realize what she had been doing and grew awkward and embarrassed until Hermione stood up and took her hand, the two of them giving a brief curtsey.

Hermione took the helm once more and played a bit while Ginny caught her breath and calmed.

Soon, it was time for Ginny's solo, and any trace of her earlier nervousness was gone. The girl in the gold gown shone in the spotlight, and the professors were admiring their young pupil. Hopefully now Ginny knew why Hermione performed.

As Ginny sang, Hermione walked over to the chair that had managed to move back to its original place, showing the room its back once again. She took two glasses of punch to the fire, thinking about the past.

Her last year was noted mostly by the loss of loved ones. What would this year bring? She had no way of knowing that her professor was asking himself that same question.

Professor Snape had been quiet during the gathering, not that she had been surprised. He was never particularly chatty, not even with her, and it was common knowledge that there was a bit of animosity between him and the rest of the staff, whether real or imagined. She decided to come and give him a bit of company, if he wanted it.

And she just wanted to be with him.

He was twirling an empty glass when she found him, and she wordlessly handed over the bright red punch. He wordlessly accepted it. "Can I sit here?" she asked, motioning to the sofa beside his chair.

"If you must."

She took a seat, and they sat in silence by the fire. After the logs had burned a little lower, they chatted about inconsequential things. What they had been doing on break, the latest selections available in the library, but they mostly sat in silence, enjoying the last bit of the year.

"I wanted to thank you again for Christmas," Hermione told him slowly.

He looked at her over the rim of what was possibly his fourth or fifth glass of the spiked beverage. "There was nothing to thank," he said, temper from being forced to mingle showing through.

"Well, then thanks for nothing," said Hermione with an impish grin. At his glare, she continued in a softer voice. "Either way, I appreciate your presence that morning. I had just received a letter from my parents." As his eyebrows shot to the ceiling, she clarified. "Postdated for after their death."

"Ah." Eloquent, you arsehole.

Hermione forgave his inarticulate response and gave him a brief summary of what the letter contained. "They want me to be happy, but I had never expected something like that. So thank you. For being there."

Looking over to him as he faced the fire, she watched the undulation of the flames across the inky black of his eyes. She slowly reached over the arm of his chair and, sliding her hand down his left arm, slipped her hand into his.

Only then did Snape break contact with the flames, looking down at the intertwined fingers with a puzzled frown on his face. But he didn't move.

His pulse quickened, memorizing the sight of her perfect, lithe hand in his. It wasn't the first time they had touched, but this felt…different.

Blame it on the wine. Blame it on the mistletoe or the fire. Blame it on the holiday, the music, or the season in general, but something had shifted between them.

Slowly, his other hand came across and settled on top of hers. He looked to her, her pensive and nervous expression telling him more than any words could, and he longed to ask her if she wanted to escape to somewhere quieter.

"Perhaps-"

"Over here! Everyone gather over here!" said a slightly blitzed Headmistress McGonagall.

The two by the fire quickly separated as the spell was broken, following the weaving Scot as she moved toward the far side of the room.

Students and staff gathered near the large picture windows showing a breathtaking view of the grounds of Hogwarts, all the way down to the village of Hogsmeade. Snow rolled down the sloping countryside, large pines were dusted with white powder, and the twinkle of lights could be seen along the edge of the horizon. A sliver of a crescent moon was glowing above the small village, nestled amongst the shining stars. Gemini was bright in the sky, with part of Orion visible above the clouds.

Hermione and Snape were the last to join the small crowd, and they stood just behind in the flicker of the candles, with Hermione looking over the shoulder of Professor Flitwick, and Snape standing tall over Professor Miller, who was barely standing, period.

The loud bells from the clock tower on the school grounds could be heard ringing in the New Year.

Dong.

Dong.

Dong.

Hermione was aware of her professor standing so close behind her, she could feel the heat radiating off his body.

Dong.

Dong.

Dong.

Dong.

She couldn't help herself. She leaned back slightly until she was resting her back against the slightly coarse fabric of his jacket and robes. She paused for a moment and took a breath to gauge his reaction. Getting nothing, she leaned back the rest of the way. She could feel the round buttons pressing into her back, just to the left of her spine, and bit her lip as her stomach Transfigured into a flutter of butterflies when he didn't move away.

Dong.

Dong.

Dong.

His breath hitched as the witch continued to rest against him. What he had dismissed as an accident at first was clearly not such.

Dong.

Dong.

At the twelfth strike of the clock, the miniature rabble cheered. Hermione reached behind her with her left hand and gently, as though to not frighten him, took his hand in hers again as they all began to sing.

"'Should auld acquaintance be forgot, and never brought to mind? Should auld acquaintance be forgot, and auld lang syne? For auld lang syne, my jo, for auld lang syne. We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet, for auld lang syne. And surely ye'll be your pint-stowp, and surely I'll be mine! And we'll tak a cup o' kindness yet, for auld lang syne.'"

At least this year he had an excuse. Not that he ever had or had even planned on participating in the singing of the traditional New Year song, but he had an excuse this year.

How was he supposed to remember the lyrics for a song with the soft little hand in his?

They hadn't realized how truly gone the headmistress was until further into the song. The staff voices faded away, not knowing the middle of the song, until a lone, Scottish, drunken slur remained.

"'We twa hae paidl'd i' the burn, frae morning sun till dine; But seas between us braid hae roar'd  
sin auld lang syne!'"

A few giggles and titters could be heard, and they took mercy on her, most of them remembering the last verse of the song. Ginny was singing strong to help cover the now girlish giggles coming from their leader.

"'And there's a hand, my trusty fiere and gie's a hand o' thine! And we'll tak a right gude-willy waught, for auld lang syne.'"

"Happy New Year!" the chorus shouted.

Noisemakers of Weasley origin, blurting out animals noises, car horns, and a veritable menagerie of other sounds, were produced from nowhere as everyone hugged, shook hands, and wished each other well.

Loathe as she was to leave her warm support, she straightened up and turned bravely to face her teacher. Even though they were mostly hidden behind the crowd, she was still apprehensive to face him, not sure if she was willing and able to see the face he would give her.

She tilted her head up to face him, his hand still in hers. "Happy New Year, Professor," she delicately told him.

"Out here," he responded, "call me Severus. Just Severus." He didn't want her to think of him as her professor, her superior. She made him feel equal, and he wanted her to feel the same. He didn't want her to ever be intimidated by him.

"Alright. Severus," she said slowly, in that lovely way of hers of enunciating every sound.

For a pause of just a moment, they stared at each other, absorbing the next shift in their relationship.

Unable to resist her kindness, her warmth, or her beauty, he slowly leaned toward her, free hand brushing the bottom line of her jaw, not breaking eye contact until the last moment.

She had been staring into the depths of his eyes as they came close, watching the expression on his handsome face, both tense and intense. Only realizing what was about to happen milliseconds before it actually did, Hermione closed her wide eyes and lifted her chin in expectation.

He did not disappoint.

He kissed her.

The kiss was chaste and gentle, the more experienced Hermione slanting her head to the side at just the last moment so that his nose rested lightly against her cheek. Lightning quick, her hand found his cheek and rested underneath his ear, fingertips tenderly entwining in his hair as they gently cupped each other's face. She felt his soft lips, moistened by his sip of the spiced apple punch, and as he pulled away with a hiss, she felt the dew of his kiss on her lips.

She believed she now had a new favorite drink.

His startled look surprised her, and his voice was just as flabbergasted as she was. "I have to go," he said simply and turned and fled the room, robes of black velvet whipping behind him in his haste, leaving Hermione with a stunned expression and one hand still lingering in the air.

~~HGSS~~

Damn and nine types of blast!

It would figure. It would just bloody well figure that his first real kiss would be interrupted by the burning of the mark on his arm given to him by the Dark Lord.

It wasn't that he hadn't kissed someone before. He was just pretty sure that the last time had been when he had kissed Lily unexpectedly, and she had pushed him away, laughing, and ran, her long red hair trailing behind her.

They had been eleven.

He could already feel the guilt of his actions welling up inside. He was not a man prone to such thoughts. He couldn't be with his current associations. But he had never wanted to be one of those men who loved and then left a woman. Especially not Hermione, and yet here he was, running away, off to serve the man who wanted nothing more than to kill her people. Snape was leaving her alone and no doubt confused.

He could not think of this now, not before going to see _Him_. Elysium forbid he be entertaining thoughts of her when the Dark Lord decided to invade his mind.

The time used to frantically grab his Death Eater robes and exit the castle he spent calming his mind with thoughts of brewing, the steps of familiar potions ridding him of his unusual abundance of emotion.

Hermione, on the other hand, let her emotion have free reign. Whereas after she had seen Ron kissing Lavender, she had conjured her flock of charmed birds to focus her hurt and anger, right now, she was pretty sure any magic she used would explode nearby objects with its instability.

He had _kissed her_.

She had been kissed by Professor Snape.

Professor Snape had kissed Hermione Granger.

Any way she formed it in her mind, it didn't fit into the round holes of what she knew to be true.

She stood in the center of the room, the other occupants unaware as they assisted the passed out Professor Miller, and slowly brought her lingering hand to her lips, where she still felt him pressed against her. Just thinking about the look in his dark chocolate eyes, the way he spoke to her in that dark chocolate voice, his cheek as smooth as dark…

…She just needed chocolate.

She made her goodbyes to the staff, ignored the protests from Ginny, shrank her piano, and made haste to her dorm.

Realization of what had happened soon set in, and her tears had begun to fall by the time she reached her floor. This just was _not_ her holiday.

Ginny found her a little while later. She had stayed as long as politeness demanded, then had gone to check on her friend.

Sitting down next to a curled up and crying Hermione, she wrapped her arms around her and asked, "Okay. No more excuses. What happened?"

"He kissed me," Hermione blurted.

Ginny's first thought was Ron, but she knew that he was completely enamored with Lorrell, and he wasn't even at the castle. In fact, no men were at the castle. Just Flitwick, Filch, Remus, and…

Ginny eyes became Galleons, which Hermione thankfully couldn't see. "Professor Snape kissed you?"

Hermione just nodded her head, the sound of his name increasing her distress and her cries.

"Dobby!" Ginny cried.

At the appearance of the little elf wringing his hands, Ginny told him, "We need Cadbury."

Less than a minute passed before a tray appeared on the end of the bed with an assortment of chocolaty confections.

"Now spill. Was it unwelcome?"

Hermione broke down and told Ginny the complete story of meeting him at the bookstore, the follow-up after the split between her and Ron, and Snape – Severus – finding her at the castle. She told Ginny how Dumbledore had been leading him, and Minerva had asked her to play for him. She showed Ginny the now enchanted rose he had brought her and told her about healing him after a meeting, talking to him through the wall when she had only suspected his presence, and anything else she could remember involving their growing friendship.

"I've known I cared for him for some time. It snuck up on me, really. He isn't the same with me as he is in the classroom, Ginny," said Hermione, only now occasionally having a hitch or sniffle as she spoke.

"Well, I should hope not!" her friend told her.

"So then, we were there tonight, and the fire was warm, and the sky was beautiful. During the bell chimes, I kind of, well, cuddled up to him, I suppose, and I said, 'Happy New Year,' and he bent down and kissed me. It was wonderful, and then he made an excuse and left, and now I don't know what to think!"

Hermione let loose a big sigh, then managed a weak smile. "Do you hate me now, Ginny? Now that I've gone and fallen for probably the worst match in the history of all that's magical?"

"No, I don't hate you. And," Ginny couldn't even believe she was about to say this, "I don't think you two are the worst match in the history of all that's magical. You could be Tonks or something."

"Or he could be Lucius Malfoy," Hermione said with a shudder.

"Or you could be his Harry Potter!" Ginny blurted out, and both girls laughed until there were different tears in Hermione's eyes, releasing the tension.

They flopped onto Hermione's bed and laid there in silence for a few moments, each one thinking over the situation. Hermione was absolutely certain that he had regretted it. How could he not? He was her superior, a professional, and much older and wiser than she. She was just the talkative, domineering K.I.A.

But he had been the one who had initiated it.

But then, he had also been the one who had run.

Ginny had a lot more to contemplate than just this evening. Her shy, quiet, bookworm friend had somehow worked her way into the heart of Professor Severus Arsehole Snape. Merlin, she wished she had been a fly on that wall. Hermione had courage to rival their House founder himself if her main concern about kissing a teacher was whether he regretted it. She could just picture the lynching.

And her mum would have a _fit_.

Kissing Snape. Kissing any professor really, but especially him. Of course, most girls at one point or another had thought about it, but Hermione had actually done it. She was possibly the only person in the universe who had. Ginny was tactfully trying to wait until the dust settled before she asked for all the dirty details.

Did he use tongue? Where were his hands? Had she kissed him back? Inquiring minds needed to know!

"I can't believe he kissed you," she mumbled into the darkness.

"Tell me about it," said Hermione as she reached for another chocolate biscuit.

After Ginny left, Hermione was grateful for the solitude of an empty dormitory. Some nights during the break, Ginny had stayed in one of the other beds. But tonight, sensing Hermione's need for privacy, she had excused herself to her own room for the night.

She lay on her back, replaying the moment like it was the snitch catch at the Quidditch World Cup.

_Snape can see it now! He is getting closer! Is he going to make it in time? There! He is making his move! Closer, closer, and ha! He's got her! Snape caught the Granger!_

And in her mind, the crowd went wild.

Her abstract psyche was obviously telling her it was long past her bedtime.

Still physically tense and restless from the aftereffects of the kiss, she decided to employ a tried and true method for tiring herself out.

Her nightly ritual took on a whole new meaning now that she knew the feel of his lips against her skin, and it wasn't only Ginny who should had been grateful to not have been in her dormitory that night because she was anything but quiet.

Later, quilt wrapped tightly around her, relishing in the security it brought, it was still a long time before Hermione found sleep.

By the time Snape returned to the castle, the promise of the Dawning of a New Era having been delivered by the Dark Lord, his mind was in such tatters that all he could manage to do was drop his robes, flick the wand Hermione had given him, and listen to her play her sweet song to lure him into the arms of Nyx.

His last thought before sleep came was that she had kissed him back.

**Teaser:** The risk was just too great. He could not give up almost twenty years of life for the fleeting attentions of a teenage girl.

No matter how much he wished to.


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N: **Love as always to my beta and Brit picker, Liongirl and shuldham. Yes, there are some anachronisms, musically, in this chapter, but I love the songs too much. The last Hermione sings is one of my favorite finds for this story. For those who didn't see, baby is doing good, link to ultrasound photos in Ch 17. Welcome to the new followers! I hope you all enjoy the tale. And without further ado…

**Playlist: **http:/ /www .youtube .com/watch?v=eKEHHeO9WFw&feature=PlayList&p=79ADD9312168DE94&playnext_from=PL&index=0&playnext=1

**Note:** The first two videos were blocked worldwide for me, so I had to find less than stellar substitutes. To listen to them in all their glory, please find the album with Linda Eder and Christiane Noll.

**Chapter Eighteen**

Hermione woke with a groan, hearing hollering coming from the common room but not quite awake enough yet to care.

It was the morning of the third day since she had been kissed by the man she loved, a man who had then turned and fled as though confronted with Harry Potter fangirls. She was still perplexed by the experience. One part of her was exultant, proud, and joyful, chest puffed out like a Malfoy. The other part was petrified, waiting to be squished like a little bug, for surely Minerva was going to descend from on high and cast out Hermione for her indiscretion, or Severus – was she still supposed to call him that? oh well, he wasn't there to hear her – would tell her she was still just a silly little girl for believing an alcohol-induced kiss on New Year's Eve meant anything.

But it had meant something to her.

Then her Malfoy side would argue that he hadn't had that much to drink. She knew the punch she had brought him had been from the nonalcoholic bowl. And surely she would have heard if her Professor had a penchant for kissing on holidays, which she really, _really_ did not believe was the case.

And the little bug part would retort that if it had meant anything to him, if he hadn't seen it as anything other than a colossal mistake, he wouldn't have run. Obviously, he just didn't know how to tell her in front of the staff.

And it hadn't helped her nerves that she had not seen him once since then. She had taken to sleeping late. Hermione told herself it was because she wanted to enjoy her last few mornings before classes resumed, but deep inside she knew it was also partly to avoid him at breakfast. She and Ginny had attended lunch and dinner in the hall but had not seen him in the four meals they had eaten. Would he wait until class resumed, or was he going to just show up at her door one night and tell her exactly what he thought of her?

Hermione had been wondering exactly how far the headmistress's eyes and ears reached around the castle as well. Minerva had been watching Hermione very intently over the last two days, causing the young woman to wriggle in her seat under the intensity. She felt like she was being watched. Did Minerva only suspect what had occurred and was watching her for some sign of confirmation? Was she just waiting for that little slip-up so that she would have the proof she needed to expel Hermione or fire Severus?

All of these thoughts were causing an already stressed out Hermione to nearly snap. She decided she was going to have breakfast – or lunch, depending on what time it was – and then spend the afternoon with her piano.

Sans Severus.

But first, she had better leave the sanctuary of her quilt and see what all the fuss was about outside her room.

"I'm not going to let that happen, Ginny! If it comes down to it, I will just leave and take him on my own!" yelled Harry at her furious friend.

Hermione had almost forgotten that Harry was going to come back a day or two early. The Aurors didn't want to risk him being with the mass of other students, and pointing out the dangers of being Harry Potter was apparently wearing on said Harry.

"Harry, there is no way I'm going to let you do that. And Hermione wouldn't either. Right, Hermione?"

Hermione, still resplendent in pajama bottoms and a full bed-head of hair, was not completely sure what the conversation involved. "Right, Ginny."

This was apparently the right answer since Ginny looked smug and Harry looked relieved. "When Voldemort comes for me, and don't wince like that, Gin, because you know it's going to happen, I will not take unnecessary risks with my friends and the school. I will go meet him by myself if I get the chance. I won't let more people die trying to save me. Not when we know all he wants is me."

Ginny stood up and paced the room in anger as Hermione watched from the stairs. "Well, I don't care! We would all be happy to go fight with you. We've all lost loved ones to him, and he is threatening the future for all of us. You are not the only one who wants him dead. Why do you think it has to be just you anyway?"

"Because I'm Harry bloody Potter! I don't want anyone else to try to help. It's got to be like this. It's got to be me!" Harry yelled at her.

Now Ginny was angry. "Well I am Ginny bloody Weasley! My family has been fighting this war since before you were born, so if you think you are the only one who has a right to have their shot at him, you are sorely mistaken! Just because it's been told you will be the one to cast the last spell doesn't mean you will cast the only spell! We will all have the chance to fight. He was in my bloody head, Harry. I want my revenge."

And with that, Ginny turned on her heel and, in a dramatic fashion typically only seen in Potions, took her leave.

Hermione, who was still standing at the bottom of the stairs with her arms crossed, turned to her friend with an eyebrow raised.

"I have no idea what happened, so don't even ask," said Harry and went up to the boys dormitory.

Alone, Hermione got dressed, packed some music in a bag, and headed down to get – she checked her watch – lunch.

That meal was probably the most awkward Hermione had ever experienced. Ginny on her left, Harry and her right, and McGonagall across from her. Then, just to put the icing on the cake, Snape – Severus? – came in as well.

It was evident to her when he entered that he was not expecting to see her. He ground nearly to a halt before gathering his sweeping robes around him and taking an empty seat at the end of the table.

Suddenly, Hermione couldn't breathe. Just looking at his face brought that night into clear focus. The stars in the sky, his hair in her fingers, and his lips on hers. As surreal as it seemed, when she locked eyes with him, she knew it was completely real.

She shoveled the last few bites into her mouth, Ginny giving her an apologetic look, and got up in a hurry to leave the table. She was almost to the door before she heard a voice calling behind her.

"May I have a moment please, Hermione?"

She spun to see the headmistress striding towards hers, indicating she was going to take her moment now, if you please. Hermione waited for her at the doorway, then followed her into the hall.

"I don't want to be a bother, Hermione, and I'll attempt to keep this brief. I'll admit I had not ever dreamed of having this conversation, as Head of House or as Headmistress."

Hermione's heart was racing like the horses at the Grand National, beating against her ribs so hard she was starting to sweat. This was everything she had worked for, and right now, she was about to lose it all for a kiss she hadn't even instigated.

"I can explain! I didn't even ask for it, and it was just that one time. I swear, Minerva, nothing will come of it. I'm sure he thinks it was a mistake, and he probably won't ever speak to me again, so even though–"

"Hermione," Minerva interrupted with a calming hand on Hermione's arm. "It's alright."

"–and maybe later but certainly not while…what?" It took her a moment to comprehend that the words "fired" and "severely disappointed" had not been spoken.

"It's alright. It's to be expected, really, I suppose, what with the circumstances under which you two have been brought together. I had certainly never contemplated your compatibility at the start. In fact, I figured you would have frightened him off long before now. But, Hermione, I put my trust in you long before now, and it's time I show my trust in him as well. You have been the epitome of discretion all year, and no one knows of your meetings outside of your three friends. Should anything further develop – and whether or not it does is completely up to you – you will not meet with any resistance from me as long as it is kept from the student body at large."

"I, um, thank you, Minerva. Are you going to tell him this too? Not that it matters since I'm fairly certain I rank somewhere below spotted owl droppings."

"No, I don't think I shall bother talking to him unless I need to," she said with a little smile. "Severus has a tendency to do as he pleases, regardless of my opinion."

Finally breathing at a mostly normal pace, Hermione revealed a ghost of a smile as well. "I can imagine."

She went to take her leave from the headmistress when a sudden thought occurred to her. "How did you know anything happened?"

"I didn't," she said, fully smiling now.

Shaking her head at her own transparency and verbal vomit, Hermione left. Not feeling up to the Room of Requirement today – too many memories for right now – she decided to abscond with Merrythought's old office again.

She entered the room and just sat in the old desk chair at first, reflecting on the start of her year. How had transfiguring this desk and chair into a piano led to the little piano in her hand? Was it right of her to accept it? Professor Flitwick had said whoever made it had put a lot of money or effort into its creation. Should she give it back so that he didn't think she was getting the wrong idea? Perhaps she should just accept it and be grateful.

She took out her wand and gave it a tap, not yet growing tired of watching the little figurine in her hand grow into a beautiful grand piano. Hermione had done a little research on the piano and found it to be Broadwood & Sons from the mid 1800's. Beyond that, she would need a Muggle library, or to ask him, and that wasn't really feasible at the moment.

She lightly brushed the keys, wondering if she would have to lose yet another beautiful instrument or if this would be as close to him as she would ever be again.

Closing her eyes, she let the music fill her ears, the room, the hallway, and her heart. (1)

"'I peer through windows, watch life go by, dream of tomorrow, and wonder why the past is holding me, keeping life at bay. I wander lost in yesterday, wanting to fly – but scared to try. But if someone like you found someone like me, then suddenly nothing would ever be the same! My heart would take wing, and I'd feel so alive, if someone like you found me!'"

Her longing and frustration had finally found an outlet. While she missed having him here, if she had been comfortable having him here at the present, then she wouldn't have had the need to play.

"'So many secrets I've longed to share! All I have needed is someone there to help me see a world I've never seen before. A love to open every door to set me free so I can soar!'"

Would he, could he be the person he showed her with the rest of wizarding society? She knew he could be the person who listened to her secrets and her dreams. He was already. But would he continue to be that person in public?

"'If someone like you found someone like me then suddenly nothing would ever be the same! There'd be a new way to live, a new life to love, if someone like you found me!'"

Hermione finished out the rest of the song and sat quietly, noting the irony of him giving her the instrument she used to play her lament over him. Thank you for the involuntary aid, Sir-Severus-Professor-Whatever.

"Hey there."

Hermione _screamed_. "Ginevra Molly Weasley!" she said, whipping around to face her friend. "Don't you ever scare me like that again!"

Ginny looked kind of sheepish and told her, "Sorry."

"How did you find me?"

Ginny shrugged. "Dumbledore." She heard Hermione mumble something under her breath that sounded like "meddling codger."

Ginny took an uninvited seat in the desk chair. "Is this where you two normally meet? I thought you said the Room of Requirement."

"This is where we first met." God, she sounded maudlin. "I just didn't want to head up there today. I needed some time to myself."

"So does it help? Singing out your feelings? Because if I don't find something soon, I'm going to kill Harry or boil the lake. Or kill Harry by boiling him in the lake."

Hermione smiled at her dramatic friend. "Well, I have a few songs here I know you know from when your dad took you all to the Muggle theater. And some of them are from one of the plays Lorrell is always listening to. What do you think about this?"

Ginny looked over the selection in Hermione's hand. "Perfect."

Hermione played a little chime on her piano, and Ginny joined with her beautiful alto. (2)

"'I sit and watch the rain,'" Ginny sang, "'and see my tears run down the windowpane...'"

"'I sit and watch the sky. And I can hear it breathe a sigh...'" Hermione joined from the piano.

Ginny sighed. "'I think of him, how we were...'"

"'And when I think of him, then I remember...'" sang Hermione.

"'Remember...'" the two friends sang.

The two friends were feeling very much the same at the moment. Ginny and Harry had only just gotten together, and the first thing that happened when they saw each other was a fight.

"'In his eyes I can see where my heart longs to be.'"

"'In his eyes I see a gentle glow,'" sang Hermione. "'And that's where I'll be safe, I know. '"

"'Safe in his arms, close to his heart...'"

"'But I don't know quite where to start...'"

"'By looking in his eyes,'" sang Ginny, "'will I see beyond tomorrow?'"

"'By looking in his eyes,'" Hermione sang in return, "'will I see beyond the sorrow that I feel? Will his eyes reveal to me promises or lies?'"

"'But he can't conceal from me the love in his eyes!'" sang Ginny. Hermione thought that was a very true statement. No matter what had happened up to this point, it was very clear that Harry really did love Ginny. But would it be enough? With the stress of school, the war, and growing up in general, would it be enough to make it?

And as much as Ginny put up with, she must love him as well.

"'I know their every look, his eyes!'" sang Hermione, reflecting on just how many looks she had seen from them lately.

Ginny answered, "'They're like an open book, his eyes!'" and together they finished the chorus. "'But most of all the look that hypnotized me.'"

Hermione was feeling the power of the song as she always did and hearing the truth behind the words. "'If I'm wise, I will walk away, and gladly...'"

"'But, sadly, I'm not wise,'" sang Ginny. "'It's hard to talk away the memories that you prize! Love is worth forgiving for!'"

Together, the friends finished, "'Now I realize everything worth living for is there, in his eyes!'"

After the song was over, each girl just took a moment to reflect on her own situation, the reasons why each couldn't talk to the man she wanted to, and the insecurities in both relationships. The intensity of the black eyes, and the depths of the green. Both powerful and unforgettable.

"Wow, Hermione. That was really intense."

Hermione gave a bit of a snort. "Tell me about it. And I've been playing and singing in front of Professor Snape for months."

"So, is that really how you feel, 'Mione?"

"It is," she said quietly. "It's new, but this is definitely different than Ron, no offense."

"None taken," said Ginny. "We're like family. I almost think it would be stranger if you _were_ attracted to him."

"Thanks, Ginny," Hermione said. It was hard for her to believe that everyone was so accepting of her and Ron remaining friends, including her and Ron.

"No problem. What's next?"

They flipped through one of Hermione's Broadway books until they came to a song Ginny knew. (3)

"'Nothing is so good it lasts eternally,'" sang Ginny. "'Perfect situations must go wrong, but this has never yet prevented me wanting far too much for far too long. Looking back I could have played it differently. Won a few more moments, who can tell? But it took time to understand the man. Now at least I know I know him well.'"

"'Wasn't it good?'" Hermione asked in a call and response.

"'Oh so good.'"

"'Wasn't he fine?'"

"'Oh so fine.'"

"'Isn't it madness he can't be mine?'"

"'He can't be mine,'" answered Ginny.

"'But in the end he needs a little bit more than me – more security,'" sang Hermione.

"'He needs his fantasy and freedom. I know him so well,'" Ginny sang back.

Hermione choked up a bit when it was time for her verse, the material still a little too close to home. "'No one in your life is with you constantly. No one is completely on your side, and though I move my world to be with him, still the gap between us is too wide.'"

"'Looking back, I could have played things some other way,'" Ginny mused.

"'Looking back, I could have played it differently, learned about the man before I fell.'" And wasn't that the truth, thought Hermione. Oh well. She didn't know at this point if she would change anything anyway. "'I was just a little careless maybe.'"

"'But I was ever so much younger then. Now at least I know I know him well,'" finished Ginny.

The girls repeated more of the song, both feeling rather despondent at their prospects. With men as stubborn as Harry and Severus, what was done was done. And Severus had made no indication he ever wanted to speak to Hermione again.

They finished the song together. "'Didn't I know how it would go? If I knew from the start, why am I falling apart? I know him so well.'"

"Well, that was depressing," said Hermione with the final movements of her fingers on the piano.

Ginny lay back against the desk and agreed. Both their situations were a bit depressing right now, and they were both going to have to project a cheer they didn't feel that evening when all the students returned to the castle.

"Alright," said Ginny. "One more song, then I might feel ready to go talk to him again. Maybe." She sighed. "I just don't understand why we argue all the time."

"Well," Hermione offered, "you do have to remember, he is used to people kissing his arse since he came to Hogwarts."

"Hermione!"

"Well, he is! And you don't. It might just be hard for him to deal with. Everyone who is willing to stand up to him is a sod like Malfoy. You're a friend, and you're not afraid of him. And you are a friend unlike how I am a friend. I personally don't know what you see in him."

"He has nice eyes," said Ginny absentmindedly.

"Severus has nice eyes," responded Hermione.

"We are not having this conversation."

Hermione just smiled and pulled out a last song for her and Ginny.

Ginny had come over to where Hermione was playing. She took a moment to admire the piano. She had been far too nervous to examine it previously, but now she noticed the beautiful carving on the sides and the rich grain of the wood.

The outside was indeed beautiful, but Hermione loved the rich tone that came from the seven-octave grand piano. Much different than her modern Steinway, this one was crafted late enough to have the sturdy iron frame and modern action, but old enough to still have the hands-on craftsmanship of the carvings.

Ginny stood near Hermione so that she could read the music over her shoulder and began. (4) "'If it were love, I would give that love every second I had, and I do. Did I know where he'd lead me to? Did I plan doing all of this for the love of a man? Well I let it happen anyhow, and what I'm feeling now has no easy explanation. Reason plays no part. Heaven help my heart…I love him too much. What if he saw my whole existence turning around a word, a smile, a touch?'"

Hermione gave a sigh for her friend, knowing she had been waiting for Harry for years, and nothing was barring the way but them. "'One of these days, and it won't be long, he'll know more about me than he should. All my dreams will be understood. No surprise, nothing more to learn from the look in my eyes.'"

Would she be enough to hold his interest? Probably not. Just a young girl with nothing to offer. "'Don't you know that time is not my friend. I'll fight it to the end, hoping to keep that best of moments when the passions start. Heaven help my heart…the day that I find suddenly I've fun out of secrets. Suddenly I'm not always on his mind.'" After a pause, she continued. "'Maybe it's best to love a stranger. Well, that's what I've done – heaven help my heart.'"

And they ended the song, "'Heaven help my heart.'"

Hermione dropped her head to her piano with a thud, neither girl noticing the black-robed figure who watched from the doorway, having been eavesdropping for who knew how long.

"Oh, Hermione," said Ginny, rubbing her friend on the back. "Welcome to my life."

Hermione let out a short laugh. "Well, at least he will talk to you and admit there is something there and that you haven't just completely lost your marbles!"

"True. Listen, I had better go find the git in question. Let me know if you need anything."

"Thanks, Ginny."

Where would they go from here? Would he ever even speak to her again? What was going to happen if they did repair things between them? She had a feeling that even if they came to terms, it would only be a matter of time before he realized he was entertaining the affections of a girl with no life experience, no advanced education, and no secrets he did not already know, and then he would move on.

In the words of Lorrell, class on Monday was going to suck.

The black robes tucked out of sight as the red-haired girl left the room and then resumed their former position outside the doorway, peering in.

Should he go in? As much as he wanted to reassure her that she was, in fact, not crazy, could he take that risk with the Dark Lord still an opposing force? And one who was growing more suspect of him as the days went by?

And, contrary to popular belief, he did care what Minerva thought. A little. Pretty much just enough to ascertain whether he'd be fired or not.

And besides, he didn't even know if she meant him anyway. Maybe there was a different stranger she was in love and on the outs with.

Alright, perhaps not.

While Professor Snape and Hermione were arguing with themselves, the portrait of Dumbledore found them both. He watched Snape looking at Hermione like Orpheus looking back for Eurydice.

With a hopeless sigh, Hermione began her last and most meaningful song. (5) "'If only you could know the things I long to say. If only I could tell you what I wish I could convey. It's in my every glance. My heart's an open book. You'd see it all at once if only you would look.'"

She played the piano with sorrow, wondering if her love life was always going to be this complicated. Would he ever want to look and read her pages? Was there going to be something more than just a kiss?

"'If only you could glimpse the feeling that I feel. If only you would notice what I'm dying to reveal – the dreams I can't declare, the needs I can't deny. You'd understand them all if only you would try. All my secrets, you would learn them. All my longings, you'd return them then the silence would be broken. Not a word would need be spoken...'"

Hermione played, entertaining an image, cheesy romance style, of her turning her head to see him standing behind her, a look of love and longing on his face, a look only for her.

If only she had known what she would have seen had she turned around at just that moment.

Severus – he hoped she would still call him Severus – was still watching her from the doorway, unable to leave once she started to sing, the yearning desire in her voice too close to what he heard inside himself. It took everything he had not to rush her into one of her own infamous hugs.

But he knew he could not. As her teacher – even if in title only, for they both knew it would not be long before she surpassed what was taught in the classroom, if she hadn't already – he could not cross that boundary. The risk was just too great. He could not give up almost twenty years of life for the fleeting attentions of a teenage girl.

No matter how much he wished to.

And still Dumbledore watched from the doorway, and further down the hall, the blond head of Draco Malfoy made an appearance. He had come back to the castle early to discuss a few things with his godfather, mostly dealing with their current situation. He wondered if Severus knew about the truce he had made with Granger, and he wanted to work out a plan for if they were discovered. This was the path normally taken to Snape's quarters, as it could be travelled mostly unseen. But he had not been expecting to find the man he sought staring with such a look of longing at...Granger? No! It could not be that filthy little…Draco cleared his mind. He was not going to be able to honor his pact if he couldn't even refrain from insulting her in his head.

He looked again, and surely that was the bushy-haired friend of Harry Potter. Suddenly feeling as though he were intruding on a very intimate moment, Draco stepped away and pushed off his plans to talk until after dinner.

Let it never be said that he did not repay her kindness towards him and Pansy.

Without warning, the white king burst forth in song from the rim of Snape's pocket. "'What is it about her that's so wonderfully and possibly familiar? Why do I feel dizzy in a way I've only felt but once before? How come when she looks at me it seems like time stops moving? Almost like the way it did that day upon the shore! But that voice…'"

"'If only it were true, if only for a while…'" Hermione sang, not hearing the king outside the door over the music of her piano.

Snape was now cracking the piece against the wall, and still it would not stop singing. "'Ah, that voice!'"

"'If only you would notice how I ache behind my smile,'" sang the unwitting Hermione.

"'Where's that voice?'" sang the white king, the fact that Snape was stomping on his little stone form not hindering his singing in the least.

"'I guess you never will. I guess it doesn't show, but if I never find a way to tell you so…Oh, what I would give if only you could know...'" Hermione sang softly as she continued to play.

Dumbledore finally spoke from the frame across from the doorway to the room. "Bless you, child. You have to remember this Prince has never had a true friend, let alone his own Gryffindor Princess. How can a little witch compete with that?" He sighed and watched the star-crossed couple. "If only I knew how I could make him see the light. If only it were up to me, this all would turn out right, and if I only could, I'd tell you what I'd do. I'd simply wave my wand and make your dreams come true. And wouldn't that surprise you if you only knew?"

Snape was still trying to break the king against the wall, to no avail. Apparently it had some sort of enchantment of protection that would not allow him to silence it. After throwing it to the ground had no effect, he scooped it into his pocket and left before his carelessness was discovered, hoping no one could hear his pocket as its song echoed off the walls in the corridors. "'Why can't we be friends, why can't we be friends…?'"

Hermione gathered her music and her piano and left the room slowly. She looked up to see the face of her departed headmaster looking back at her. "Oh!" she said. "I'm sorry if I disturbed you, sir. I'll just be going now."

_Poor Miss Granger. Even on her most sorrowful days, she still apologizes to paintings_, thought Dumbledore. "It is quite alright. Your talents are never unwelcome. And you know, Miss Granger, all may not be lost. Remember, you have the blessings of both the headmistress and the former headmaster."

With a weak smile and blush, she wondered if the whole castle knew her secret. "Thank you, sir. If only we could stand to be in the same room together, I might be inclined to believe you." Dejected, she left for her quarters.

"Ah, dear, if only."

Back in the dorm, she could hear that the students had returned.

"Hermione! Oh my gosh, let me tell you about our vacation!" she heard Lorrell exclaim.

Interrupting her, Ginny told her, "Guess what? My brother has a thing for Katie Bell."

Startled out of her reverie, Hermione asked, "Which one?"

"Well, I only know one Katie, but she goes by Kat now," said Lorrell.

Rolling her eyes, she elaborated. "Which _brother_?"

"Charlie. He was home from Romania. Kat came to visit because we've made friends on the Quidditch team, and, Hermione, she is only seventeen!"

"But Charlie totally wants her. He said if she is still interested in him, she needs to come back over the summer," said Lorrell.

"Oh my," said Hermione. "What does your mother think?"

"What do you think? The prospect of having another son married who will give her grandchildren who aren't French? I think my mum is about to pack up George and Fred and send them off to find wives!"

Hermione laughed, thinking of what that would do to bruise their ego. Charlie was widely considered to be the short brother at only 6'1", but it fit with his stocky frame. He was considered quite the catch, and Hermione offhandedly wondered if Lorrell knew he could have played Quidditch professionally if he had wanted to. Ah well, she was better off with Ron. But Charlie and Katie – Kat, now – was very interesting.

"Mum missed you, according to Ron. Dad too," Ginny told her.

"Well, we'll have to make sure to go see them at Easter," said Hermione.

She wondered how much her life was now altered by deciding to stay at the castle over Christmas.

If only she knew.

Teaser: _Tonight, RoR, 8pm?_


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N:** Are you ready for some fluff? I'm ready for some fluff. Happy Birthday, Yanks.

**Playlist: **http:/ /www .youtube .com/watch?v=ufTeK6Sx-kA&feature=PlayList&p=E983087278C16F48&playnext_from=PL&index=0&playnext=1

**Chapter Nineteen**

Hermione paced outside the door in typical Hermione fashion.

It remained shut and silent, obviously against her.

Did she knock, or did she walk away?

She should knock. They had managed an entire week of Potions successfully ignoring each other. As long as she didn't raise her hand or act overly obtuse while assisting anyone in the class, he ignored her completely. She refrained from watching his every move, asking questions, and staying after class. Perhaps they were ready to move on to the next trial: speaking to each other. And she had spent a good portion of her break working on what was in her hands.

But really, she should just make a break for it. Things were going well, and going through that door could seriously destroy that. What if having her alone gave him the opportunity he needed to tell her exactly what he thought of the events from New Year's? Was she prepared to handle that?

She walked up to the door, laying her hand on the cool, smooth wood, knowing it was possible he was just on the other side of the barrier.

She missed him.

And, she reasoned, it was possible he wasn't even there, and she could just drop this off and run and achieve both of her choices.

She knocked.

And waited.

Nothing happened.

Furtively looking around her, she knocked again, and again nothing happened. She gave the heavy door a strong push and watched in awe as it creaked free and swung open.

She tried to slyly poke her head inside, the effect lost after catching her hair on the door frame.

Seeing no one, she darted inside and walked up to his desk. It would figure that now as she was standing here, she would start to have doubts about her gift.

Well, it was simply too late to do anything about it now, Hermione Jean, so you may as well put it on his desk and get out of here before you truly do deserve to get expelled, she told herself.

Setting the package on his desk, she turned to make a beeline toward the exit.

And almost walked straight into her professor.

"Eep!" was the best thing Hermione could think to say.

"Can I help you, Hermione?"

Furiously shaking her head no, she ran out the door without another word.

He watched his student pass. They hadn't spoken at all since that fateful night. He hoped he hadn't been too forward by addressing her by her first name, but it was obvious the young woman had been nervous before he had even spoken a word. As he entered his office, he had watched her for just a moment while she stood with a parcel held close to her chest, apparently trying to decide whether to leave it.

Giving his empty doorframe a last look, he sat at his desk to pick up the package.

It was wrapped in birthday wrapping paper. The little snitches with birthday hats made him wonder if this was the same wrapping she used on gifts for Mister Potter and Mister Weasley.

Was this who he was now? Someone who received gifts in jolly paper? Someone who received gifts from the same people as Potter and Weasley? It was disconcerting to place himself in any group that included those two, but he, well, he almost liked this one.

A look of distrust popped his bubble. He had kissed her and left her in a room full of the staff. He cast a surreptitious glance down at the package and its unknown contents. What if this was a Weasley product, or, Merlin forbid, something of her own creation meant to exact her revenge?

Thankfully, his rational mind interrupted. This was Hermione Granger, model student, do-gooder, and future staff member.

He reached to open the package, but at the last moment, some random lesson instilled by his mother stopped him, and he read the little note first.

_For __Pr-__Severus,_

_Thinking of you with joy on your birthday and wishing you everything that brings you happiness today and always._

_~ Hermione Granger_

He stared at the little note, this tiny piece of parchment containing one of the kindest things ever said to him. It was not some store-bought card full of false sentiments. This was a missive written just for him and carried through the pen of his love.

Wondering what kind of fool he was for even bothering with such a thing, he look the note and slipped it into a desk drawer, charmed to open only for him. Inside that same drawer was her handkerchief.

Finally bringing himself to open the festive paper, he ran his hand gently, disbelievingly, over the contents.

Inside he found a scarf, gloves, and knit cap crafted of the softest wool. He could feel the Impervious Charm on them and reflected that with the fingers of the gloves and the Charm, he could harvest winter potions ingredients in relative comfort. Thoughtful. All were in black and trimmed with Slytherin green. He had a fleeting image of her seated in front of the fireplace, ball of yarn beside her with an attentive cat at her feet, creating the long, luxurious scarf for him.

He only blinked when he realized the chair he pictured her in and the fireplace she was sitting in front of were _his_.

Giving his head a shake, he carried the items to his chambers.

~~HGSS~~

Hermione was still fretting when it was time for lunch.

"You alright, hun?" she heard Lorrell ask.

"Yes, I'm alright. Just a long week." She smiled, hopefully reassuringly, at the girl and continued her lunch. She was due to work in Charms on Monday and was contemplating going over her notes to see if she had any questions for Professor Flitwick.

The more she was around the staff and introduced to the inner workings of the castle, the more she was convinced she had made the right decision by staying on. She hadn't met with Professor McGonagall for anything additional yet, but she was beginning to feel more confident on her own, after not having any disastrous experiences with her professors thus far.

Well, perhaps she had slightly had one with Professor Burbage, but it wasn't her fault Muggles were so often dismissed.

Back in her common room, she was relaxing with her notes when her thigh was suddenly burning. Jumping up off the chair, she went to brush her leg, belatedly realizing that the heat was coming from inside her trouser pocket.

Stunned that he would be contacting her, she took out her Galleon.

_Tonight, RoR, 8pm?_

She snorted a near hysterical bark of laughter at the question mark. Since when did Professor Snape – Severus – whatever – start asking her things?

She kind of liked this chivalrous side and took her Galleon to respond in the affirmative.

Looking up, her eyes met the brown ones of Ginny, who was sitting on a sofa nearby with a curious look on her face. Knowing it was mere moments before Ginny started interrogating her on exactly what had just transpired, Hermione nipped it in the bud.

"It's his birthday," she explained.

With a smirk, Ginny just turned her head back to her half-written essay.

The rest of the afternoon was spent with half her mind on Charms, the other half working herself into a frenzy. She kept telling herself that he wasn't upset with her or he wouldn't have asked to meet tonight, but she still questioned his reasons.

With her music folder and chess set, or the remaining thirty-one pieces of her chess set, in tow, she went into the Room of Requirement, happy it was still being cooperative.

She walked in to find him sitting in his chair as though nothing had changed, with a plate of finger foods next to him and a pot of tea waiting to be consumed.

"Um, hello," she said tentatively.

"Hermione," he greeted her.

_He kissed me! He kissed me! He kissed me!_ went her mind.

He cleared his throat and told her, "Thank you for the gift. It was very…thoughtful."

_His lips on hers, her hands in his hair._

"Oh, you're welcome. I hope it wasn't, I mean, I know you don't usually… I hope it was okay to receive a gift from a student…from…from me." _Bless it, Hermione, can't you get out one coherent sentence?_ her mind chastised, while she tried to reason her stuttering away with thoughts of his buttons against her skin, being wrapped in the long cloak, and the gentle touch of his nose on her soft cheek.

"It was not unwelcome. They will be quite beneficial. I appreciate the effort it took to create them."

"It was nothing," she said with a blush. "Nothing like my…your…the piano."

"The piano is yours. Permanently. I promise."

Heart warmed at hearing him make a promise to her, she restored the piano to its normal size. "I grabbed my Disney folder, I hope that's alright."

Hoping she didn't see how nervous he still was, he told her that he had no preference.

She started to play, mostly to ease the awkward tension in the room – since, well, _he had kissed her_. Was he ever going to address it? (1)

"'A dream is a wish your heart makes when you're fast asleep. In dreams, you will lose your heartaches. Whatever you wish for, you keep. Have faith in your dreams and someday your rainbows will come smiling through. No matter how your heart is grieving, if you keep on believing, the dream that you wish will come true.'"

She played the notes, but the focus of her mind was on the words. Someday, would her wish come true?

Yes, she decided. She just didn't know when, and it wasn't for her to know.

"'A dream is a wish your heart makes when you're feeling small. Alone in the night you whisper, thinking no one can hear you at all. You wake with the morning sunlight to find fortune that is smiling on you. Don't let your heart be filled with sorrow. For all you know, tomorrow the dream that you wish will come true.'"

How was it, he mused, that the unknown people who had written this music so long ago could so accurately describe his present condition? It was childish, and pathetic, but still, there were days where he wondered if someday he would see a dream come to fruition.

Perhaps if he lived long enough, he decided. Though not one with this woman. He had bollixed that one up completely, he was sure. Even if she had given him a birthday gift. It was obviously something she had created when she still considered him a friend and not some pathetic old man who had thrust himself upon her.

But she had kissed him back.

Yes, she had, hadn't she?

Hmm.

"'No matter how your heart is grieving, if you keep on believing, the dream that you wish will come true,'" she finished.

Well, perhaps he would just keep on believing.

Hermione's face took on a wistful smile as she sang the next song, not realizing until near the end of the first verse the irony of it. (2)

"'Someday, my prince will come. Someday, we'll meet again, and away to his castle we'll go to be happy forever I know.'"

Would he be her "prince?" Was this, Hogwarts, her castle?

"'Some day when spring is here, we'll find our love anew, and the birds will sing, and wedding bells will ring. Some day when my dreams come true.'"

He looked to her with a question in his features. "Is that your dream? To be swept away by some knight or king in shining armor?"

"No," she answered quietly, looking straight at him. "By a prince, to his castle. My knight is far too dramatic, and my king seems to have been misplaced. I think a prince is just right."

Her heart was beating wildly. Was this her speaking? Where had this flirtatious behavior come from? Why did it seem she could flirt with him when she had been completely incapable of anything similar with Ron, her coy nature ruling the day?

"Is every song for Disney written with such sentimentality?"

He said it with a sneer, trying to make it an insult, but she knew him well enough now that she could tell when he was hiding a genuine question with sarcasm.

She nodded in affirmation. "Pretty much. Muggle children, girls especially, grow up with fairy tales. We learn 'Cinderella walked on broken glass. Sleeping Beauty let a whole lifetime pass. Belle fell in love with a hideous beast. Jasmine married a common thief. Ariel walked on land for love and life. Snow White barely escaped a knife. It was all about blood, sweat, and tears, because love means facing your biggest fears.' And, of course, we learn…" And she began to sing. (3) "'When you wish upon a star, makes no difference who you are. Anything your heart desires will come to you.'"

"Do you have a song for everything?" he asked.

"I think so," she answered honestly, "but if Hagrid runs in without his clothes on, I may be at a loss."

She continued her song. "'If your heart is in your dream, no request is too extreme when you wish upon a star as dreamers do. Fate is kind. She brings to those who love the sweet fulfillment of their secret longing.'"

He furrowed his brow. If there were such a thing as Fate, had that been his problem thus far, that he had not truly loved?

Well, he would find out now, for he had not loved anything in his life as much as he loved the witch behind the piano.

"'Like a bolt out of the blue, Fate steps in and sees you through. When you wish upon a star, your dreams come true.'"

"Do you still wish, Hermione?" he asked her.

"Of course…Severus. And say goodnight to my someone. I think some part of me is lamenting a normal childhood."

"Yours was not normal?" he asked, confused.

"Finding out you really do have special powers, leaving your parents, and then finding out there really is an arch nemesis who is trying to kill your best friend and your kind is _not_ normal."

"I suppose not."

She decided to take a break, since her failure to warm up before she began to play had given her wrist a cramp. She set up the chess set to play and took her seat next to his.

He was taking a sip of tea, and she could only watch the curve of his lips around the bone-white china.

Quickly, to cover up the pause in conversation, she said, "I am starting to get worried about my white king. He's been gone for quite a while, and even though I don't think any harm will come to him, it'd be nice to have him back. I'm starting to wonder if I should make a new one."

"If harm can come to him, I'm sure he will find it," said her snarky professor, glancing meaningfully at his pocket where the king was currently hiding. He wasn't sure what prevented him from ousting the little man from his secret hideout. Perhaps he admired the king's courage and ability to put his heart on his sleeve. Perhaps it was simple curiosity at the white king's intentions towards Snape. Either way, he left him there for the time being, as long as he behaved himself.

The chess set had completed their warm-ups, which he was pretty sure were just for show, and had begun to play a slow song with long sustained notes, building up the anticipation. (4) A short interruption of a few horns and winds, and they were back to holding the tension again.

"And what are they playing?"

"'The Sorcerer's Apprentice', by Dukas," she told him. "It was used in a movie called _Fantasia_, which had no words, just scenes set to music. In this one, the mischievous Mickey is an apprentice who gets a hold of his master's hat and causes trouble. It allows him to do magic."

In his mind, he saw the cartoon figure sneaking in and taking the hat and experimentally waving a new wand through the air to test its compatibility.

The music grew frenzied, and he wondered what the chaos was supposed to be. "What is this rumpus?" he asked her.

Laughing, she told him how Mickey charmed a mop and bucket to clean on his behalf, but they split and kept splitting, bringing in water until the room began to flood.

His mind offered an image true to the chaos he had witnessed of dunderheads with a wand. He envisioned the large mouse exploding cauldrons, turning classmates intriguing colors, and vanishing clothing by mistake.

She told him how the angry wizard finally came in and Vanished everything and how the wizard looked like Dumbledore in her opinion.

At the end of the song, her hand felt well enough to continue playing.

The Disney songs she had been playing came from her book of Jim Brickman's renditions. It was nice to be able to play the music unencumbered by others sometimes. She enjoyed the impromptu sessions when she was able to just, well, basically have a quickie with the piano.

She played the languid notes on the keys, loving every minute of the delicate and excellent craftsmanship. She remembered that she wanted to ask him about the piano's origin, but now was not the time. (5)

"'Tale as old as time, true as it can be. Barely even friends then somebody bends, unexpectedly. Just a little change, small to say the least. Both a little scared, neither one prepared. Beauty and the Beast.'"

If ever the two of them had an anthem, she thought.

"'Ever just the same. Ever a surprise. Ever as before, ever just as sure as the sun will rise. Tale as old as time. Tune as old as song. Bittersweet and strange, finding you can change, learning you were wrong. Certain as the sun rising in the east. Tale as old as time, song as old as rhyme. Beauty and the Beast.'"

Was he listening to the words? Did he feel the resonance of the lyrics like she did, or was she just being a silly girl again? He was staring at her, she could see with a quick glance. She wondered if he was reliving the single break in their propriety as she was – with longing and trepidation.

"'Tale as old as time…song as old as rhyme…Beauty and the Beast.'"

The song ended with a lone flourish on the beautiful instrument, and she was loath to face him. She was pretty sure that she could not hide anything from him, since she had thus far not been able to hide anything from anyone who looked too closely.

And he always looked too closely.

"And how is it even small children are supposed to believe this rubbish?"

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"A beautiful young woman shunning the prime candidate and choosing a beast? Someone who had no kind words, separated her from her father, and did nothing but terrorize her?"

"Well, it's more complicated than that," she told him.

"Elucidate," he said, leaning back in his chair and preparing himself for her explanation.

"Well," she said, going back to sit cross-legged in her chair and placing her music beside her, "she's intelligent. She can see beyond the façade he shows her. I think most people have a shield up, and they only show their true feelings to a select group of people. It can be frightening to reveal your true personality because if people know who you really are, then when they reject you, they are rejecting the real you and not just the persona you've created. You know what I mean?"

"Yes."

Yes, she thought, he probably did.

"I think that Belle can tell that the Beast has very attractive qualities, he just isn't using them in the best light. He kind of reminds me of you, really." Hermione mentally kicked herself, hard. She had not meant to say that out loud.

His eyebrow rose. "Such as?"

"Well, the Beast has a very masculine figure, which he uses to intimidate instead of entice. He sees his sentimentality as a weakness, and so he hides it instead of showing her his true kindness. She helps him turn it around and become the prince again, both physically and personally."

"And how," he drawled, "is that supposed to have any similarities with myself?"

This was just so strange and so uncomfortable. Hermione supposed it was time she saw Severus as Harry saw Dumbledore and just went with the strange situations in which they always found themselves.

"I've already told you what I think about your voice. It's deep and melodious. It could be used to comfort, or charm, or even sing, I don't know. But you use it to frighten and intimidate. Your eyes you use to glare at those you deem beneath you or not worthy of your time, but they are so expressive. I wonder how they would light with a whole range of emotions. Your nose, it's very aristocratic and elegant, but you stare down it with those eyes and then use your brilliant mind to say something cutting instead of rewarding. It all could be such a different package, but it just depends on how you choose to present yourself." She stared at him, emotionally stripping him bare. "But I see through you. I can see who you are and the person you'd like to be, I think. I think you haven't been given a fair shot at things, but given that chance, you'd be someone different. And really, nothing about the core of you needs to change. You're a good person. There is nothing wrong or evil about being studious, or quiet, or uncomfortable around others. It's just how you use those qualities."

For a moment, he was rendered completely incapable of speech at Hermione's insight into his character. She knew him. He really felt like she knew him. She could figure out his motivations, why he had made the choices he had in life. She knew where he had been and who he was now.

And still she sat there. Still she voluntary put herself in his presence. Still she kissed him back.

Now he felt like he could produce a Patronus to rival Potter's infamous stag.

"And I loved the way you tied back your hair at the Yule ball. Maybe," she continued timidly, "if you wanted to, you could find your own awkward bookworm too."

Looking into his face, she felt as though the ball were in her court now. She leaned over in her chair and reached an arm out to touch him.

And promptly dropped all her music on the floor.

Cursing her clumsiness, she quickly stood to retrieve it and noticed that her professor did as well. After a bit of shuffling, all the music was off the floor. She stood up, and he awkwardly reached out to give her the music.

Taking it from him, time stopped for a moment as their hands touched. She looked into those expressive eyes and was amazed to see a reflection of what she imagined was in her own. Respect, admiration, desire.

There was no music this time, no environmental inducements that propelled them together. They leaned together, both still holding on to the sheets of music, coming closer and closer together in the inevitable draw of those in love.

The white king was looking over the edge of Snape's pocket, aghast. This could not be! His Hermione could not besmirch herself was such a cad as this! Something must be done!

There was only one thing he could do.

"OUCH!" screamed the professor, holding his thigh where he had just been bitten. "Bloody barbarous bastard!" He snapped back from Hermione, leaving her holding the music.

Her sense of déjà vu was completing the scene in her mind, where he said something vague and then turned tail.

"I'm very sorry, Hermione."

There was the something vague.

"I should, I should probably be going."

There was the turning tail.

Sighing, she held her music close to her. He didn't immediately leave. It was almost like he was waiting, waiting for her to tell him to stay.

"Do you have a moment, before you go?" she asked uncertainly.

He shifted and looked to the door. "I do."

She set her music on the table – securely this time – and slowly put away her chess set before sitting on the piano bench.

She softly sang as she played.

"'Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday, dear Severus. Happy birthday to you.'"

Well, there was another first, he was pretty sure. Had he honestly not been treated like a regular child, a regular person, for the majority of his life?

"I'd give you a pinch to grow an inch," he heard her say, "but it seems like you've already gotten one," as she indicated his leg.

He smirked lightly, thanked her, and left the room with a bit of a spring in his step – for him.

He had gifts, had been sung to, and she apparently didn't hate him. She had called him Severus.

And did he mention that she had kissed him back?

This was his best birthday ever.

~~HGSS~~

"Miss Granger!" she heard her tiny professor exclaim. "I am so pleased to see you, so pleased!"

She made a mental note in her "What to copy from other professors" file: Make each student feel special.

"I think it's simply wonderful that you've agreed to stay on as staff. I cannot think of a better student, and I know you'll make a marvelous teacher. A shoe-in for Head Girl, you were, but now, well," he chuckled, "we'll just have to pass it along I suppose."

She made another mental note: Compliment each student.

She sat in with Flitwick as he taught the first-year Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs, clearly remembering the "swish and flick" lesson.

And how her pronunciation of "Leviosa" had led to such conflict between her and Ron.

Now, at least, things were going well between her friends. It was odd to think how things were better now, after they had broken up, than they had been during the years they had been strictly friends, such as when Crookshanks had been going after Scabbers.

She wondered how things were going to change when she was a professor here. She would be teaching friends like Ginny, and she was already in the public eye as a friend of Harry's. Would they be willing to respect her? She hoped she could garner respect from the students with a firm hand like Professor McGonagall while still being approachable, like Professor Flitwick.

Was her class going to be mostly lecture-based, or did she want to focus more on hands-on experience? Her favorite part was actually seeing the fruits of her efforts. She was contemplating how she could work in some Muggle theories and research when she realized she was not paying the strictest attention to the lecture at hand.

Professor Flitwick had a wonderful way of earning the students' respect, which cut down on the shenanigans in his class. He was not prejudiced or rude to anyone. He was always willing to lend a hand to help a student learn. Hermione decided that she would like to offer a study group if people wanted to come work with her one night after class.

Hermione started paying attention again, sitting on her little stool in the corner of the classroom. Some students had been watching her at the beginning of the course, but when she failed to perform tricks or do anything strange, they returned their attention to their professor.

At the end of the day, Hermione had a good working knowledge of who she wanted to be as an instructor. She still thought it would be awfully strange to teach people she knew. And she was so small; she would have to work on creating a presence in the classroom. Perhaps Harry, Ginny, Ron, Neville, and Luna would let her play professor for their N.E.W.T. study lessons. She could hold mini classes and help them revise.

Thinking this was a smashing idea, she headed into her dorm room, only to be assaulted by Ginny Weasley, Girl of a Thousand Questions.

A little while later, she was seated in a quiet corner with an eager Ginny.

"What do you mean where were his hands?"

Ginny bounced a little. "When he kissed you! Where were his hands?"

"Um…" Hermione tried to remember. "One was on my face, and the other on my waist, I think."

"And yours?"

Hermione clearly remembered where hers had been, and her fingertips tingled a little remembering the sensation. "I had one hand on his chest, and the other wrapped in his hair. I cannot believe I am telling you this. Why do you want to know anyway?"

"Because, Hermione, it's so taboo! I have to live vicariously through you. I only get to snog the Savior of the Wizarding World. You got to snog Snape, Hermione. Snape! I think every girl at one point in their Hogwarts career has wondered what it would be like to have him ensnare their senses, you know what I mean?"

"Ginny, you can be so crass."

"And?"

"It was brilliant."

"Ha! I knew it!" Ginny told her.

"I sang for him on Saturday too, Ginny. God, just knowing he is watching me, I get all flustered. He can be incredibly intense, and you just feel like you are the center of everything. Like he is looking straight through you, and your soul is out on the table." Hermione admitted to herself that it felt good to be able to spill her most tightly guarded secret to another. "And you realize if you tell anyone, I'll have to hurt you."

"Yes, yes, I know. Not a soul. I'll even give you a wand oath if you want. So, what do you think, is this going to turn into, like, a relationship?"

"Gin, I honestly have no idea. Right now, it's just a kiss. Just a strange, random kiss that is possibly never going to be repeated."

"But you said you two had a moment this weekend!"

"Well, we did," she said, "but then he got odd again, so I don't know what will happen. And right now, with him being a professor and working with," she lowered her voice, "You-Know-Who, it's not like he is at liberty to see who he wants, when he wants."

If only she knew how quickly everything was going to change.

**Teaser:** Robes torn, he curled in the fetal position to attempt to shield his vital parts from the steel toed weapons of his assailants, and absently watched blood from somewhere pool on the white snow, melting it as it went.


	20. Chapter 20

**Playlist: **http:/ /www .youtube .com/watch?v=SdrlG9wdOD4&feature=PlayList&p=C92871F2E6948915&playnext_from=PL&index=0&playnext=1

The third video isn't mine, since it was blocked.

**Chapter Twenty**

A cold snap was moving through the countryside, adding more inches to the heavy blanket of snow already covering the Highlands of Scotland. With below-freezing temperatures and a heavy snowfall predicted for that evening, the castle had a rather campy atmosphere. Students were nabbing snacks off the lunch table for that evening, setting up slumber parties in the common rooms, and organizing all-night marathons of Gobstones, thoroughly taking advantage of the weather on a Saturday evening.

In the week since their last meeting, things had thawed between Hermione and her professor, but they had not had any time alone together since then. Sometimes, she would give him a little smile in class, and he would watch her in return, but beyond that, nothing had been stated about their flirting or the kiss.

And other than a strange look or a hushed whisper, most of the students seemed to ignore Hermione's dance with her Potions professor in light of the fact that she had danced with other male staff, and she was, well, Hermione. She was a little odd anyhow.

Hermione was almost convinced it was bothering Ginny more than it was bothering her. The girl was constantly coming up with ways for Hermione to go see him, from the practical to the downright uncomfortable.

"Do you have anything you need to return to him?" Ginny asked her that afternoon in Hermione's room.

"No," said Hermione, "and if I did, I would do it before class."

Ginny huffed. "That defeats the purpose. Why don't you see if he wants to join you with your piano?"

"I asked him last time," Hermione told her in a slightly petulant tone. "I think he needs to do the asking this time."

Rolling her eyes, Ginny told her, "You need to just go down there, whip open his office door, and drop your robes, reveling nothing underneath."

"Yeah, Gin. I'll get right on that. Think Harry will let me borrow his cloak?"

"Oh, I'm sure he will!"

"Ginny, I was being sarcastic," said Hermione.

"You're impossible," Ginny told her.

"So I've been told…oh," she said in a queer voice, slightly startled. She pulled out the small disc from her pocket.

_RoR 7pm?_

_Love to_, she responded.

"And just what is that smile?" Ginny asked her.

"He did the asking."

Shaking her head, Ginny told her, "This is so weird. It's like you two are dating. I cannot see him on a date. 'Potions master seeks soul mate. Enjoys brewing, tormenting children, hates life. Must bring own shampoo.'"

Laughing, Hermione threw a pillow at Ginny. "You are a wretched friend, Ginny Weasley! I'll meet you in the Great Hall."

Hermione was a little later than she would have liked by the time she arrived for dinner. She found that she was actually concerned with what she wore that evening, knowing who her company would be, even though she knew that her clothes were going to be covered by her robes anyway, and he had seen her several times in all of her daily attire. And some of her pajamas.

But no matter. She had found a blue jumper she thought she had worn slightly less than the rest and paired it with some black slacks before going to meet Ginny, who had probably found Lorrell by now as well, and the boys. It was only shortly after six, which should give her plenty of time to chat before going to meet Severus.

Her heart did a little cartwheel every time she thought his name, knowing the importance of his finally extending that invitation to her and remembering how he had extended it.

Hermione decided he could invite her to whatever he wished in the future if it was delivered in the same manner.

After dinner, she found herself summoned by the headmistress for a quick chat.

Curious, she headed for the spiral staircase.

~~HGSS~~

He paced the room. Back and forth, back and forth. Professor Snape had sat in his chair for a while, then in her chair for a while, and was now giving up on the chairs completely.

Almost three cups of tea were gone, and still, she was not here.

Had he been mistaken in inviting her here after not hearing anything from her in the last week? He had been under the impression that there was a possibility that she shared his affection and had gathered his courage to speak to her tonight. He still wasn't positive what he was going to say, but he knew that the unresolved tension was wreaking far greater havoc on his sleep than the Dark Lord had in months.

Had he been taken for a fool to believe that this beautiful woman would be his Belle?

He was desperately trying to ignore the little man in his pocket, who had become increasingly vocal once he realized there was nothing Snape could do to quell him. (1)

"'Ain't no sunshine when she's gone. It's not warm when she's away. Ain't no sunshine when she's gone, and she's always gone too long anytime she goes away.'"

"Shut up, you menacing, meddling moron!"

The white king ignored him and started making a cadence by beating on his stone torso through the cloth of the pocket.

"'Wonder this time where she's gone, wonder if she's gone to stay. Ain't no sunshine when she's gone,  
and this house just ain't no home anytime she goes away.'"

He was growing angrier and angrier by the second, imagining her in several places that were not here. Was she off with her friends, laughing about how he was here waiting for her, stupid sod that he was? Never mind that she had never treated him like that in the past. It was only a matter of time before she did. They all did.

Or perhaps there really was someone else? Well, he couldn't really say someone else since he wasn't really her someone in the first place. But was that where she was now? Saying goodnight to her someone? The someone who obviously wasn't him?

"'Hey, I ought to leave the young thing alone,'" sang the white king, leaning with one arm out of his jacket pocket. "'But ain't no sunshine when she's gone, only darkness every day. Ain't no sunshine when she's gone, and this house just ain't no home anytime she goes away.'"

This was ridiculous. Why was he even still here? If she had wanted to meet him, she would have been here by now. Nearly an hour had passed with no word, and he was not going to be made a fool of any longer.

Gathering his robes and the pieces of his heart, he left the room.

~~HGSS~~

Gasping, she made her excuses to Minerva.

McGonagall had asked her up to her office for an update on the year thus far. Did she have any questions, comments, concerns?

Hermione had started to talk to her about how she wanted to teach and who she wanted to emulate and asked her former teacher if she had any pointers. She found out that after almost half a century of teaching, Minerva had several pointers.

The two women spent many a merry minute catching up on what had happened to various students over Christmas and about the workings of the school during the holiday, but Hermione suddenly realized that she was nearly an hour late to meet Severus and made a hasty exit.

~~HGSS~~

He was going to go right up to her room and demand an explanation.

No, that would not do. He knew she owed him nothing and had, in fact, probably given him much more than he deserved.

To his rooms, then, to wallow.

No, that would not do either. He would just sit around moping and getting pissed, which was no way to be when surrounded by the students he was in charge of at present.

Then he had to get out of this castle.

He threw open the two massive doors at the main entrance of the castle and strode down the path to Hogsmeade. He wasn't sure where he was going to go once he got there, but at least it was not here.

As he reached the edge of the village, and the trees slowly grew less dense, he caught a bit of movement out of the corner of his eye near a long path leading to a house he knew was kept by the Dark Lord. Drawing his wand, he stilled on the road and cast the trees a wary glance.

Suddenly, three hooded figures of varying heights emerged from the woods, wands drawn and pointed at him.

"Ah, Snape," the tall one said. "Here you are at last."

"Thought we were going to have to go up to the castle ourselves and get you," the short one told him.

"You wouldn't have liked it if we came up to the castle, Severus, pal," said the third. "Seems the Dark Lord knows."

"Of course he does, he knows everything, including how you three are about to attack one of his most prized followers," said Snape, hoping to cause just a moment's hesitation in these three vigilantes to give himself a break.

"Ah," the second one said, "not so quick. See, the Dark Lord, he knows about your Mudblood. And he's sent us up to deliver…a message."

~~HGSS~~

Hermione reached the room and was puzzled to find him absent. That was odd, given he knew she was typically a punctual person. And she had willingly waited for him on several occasions.

His scent was still in the air, giving the room the fragrance of blown-out incense.

She wished there was a way she could just Floo his chambers and check to see if-

A little pot appeared on the fireplace, and Hermione was willing to bet it contained Floo powder.

Taking a bit of the powder and tossing it into the flames, she called out, "Severus Snape's chambers," and poked her head in.

"Severus?" she called tentatively, receiving no response. "Um, Professor Snape? It's Hermione. We were supposed to meet?"

She pulled her head back through the flames, feeling it would not be prudent to enter his rooms uninvited.

After a moment of hesitation, she decided to inquire after him with Minerva. Perhaps he had been summoned, and she had not been aware.

~~HGSS~~

He had stopped counting the number of curses and the number of kicks. He was lying prone on the cold, snowy ground, wand scattered out of reach, with nothing for protection. Robes torn, he curled into a fetal position in an attempt to shield his vital parts from the steel-toed boots of his assailants and watched absently as blood from somewhere began to pool on the white snow, melting it as it went.

"You know you deserve this, right, you filth?"

_Yes._

He felt one of his ribs give way with the next kick, making his chest feel as though someone were sitting on it and his breath come in burning, painful gasps.

"First Potter's mommy, and then his best friend," said the short one with a Cruciatus Curse. Snape writhed in pain, jostling his broken bones.

The tall one stepped on his wrist, crushing it, to keep him still on the ground. "You just have a kink for the dirty, is that it? Just need the taint of their blood to match your own? What do you see anyway? Do you miss her, Snape? Do you long for your Mudblood love?"

The curses were coming so quickly now, it looked like fireworks over his head.

_She was kind. She was a friend. And he had bollixed everything._

He pictured her face as a boot made solid contact with the side of his head, putting a dent in the skull underneath.

She was Hermione.

And then the world went black.

~~HGSS~~

The headmistress did not take Hermione's concerns lightly. She knew that Severus was not so careless as to miss an appointment without explanation or to wander for long without informing someone of his whereabouts. His position and person were too important. When Hermione explained that he was supposed to be there and wasn't, Minerva promptly Floo'd his quarters and vanished into the flames.

A few minutes later, she returned empty-handed. "His other robes are still there, so he has not been summoned. I'll call the staff."

Soon, all the staff were gathered in Minerva's office, which somehow managed to continue not being crowded. Teams were quickly dispatched to search the castle in pairs and were given areas in which to search. They were told to pay special attention to sections like the library, where it was possible he would go and not inform anyone.

Hermione was not allowed to go with the search teams, Minerva preferring to have someone stay behind with her in case they received any news. Hermione was going insane at her lack of productivity and was soon wearing holes in the carpet.

Almost two hours had passed, and the teams were beginning to cover the grounds outside. Night had fallen and so had the snow, making the search even slower.

Professor Flitwick and Professor Miller were searching down the path to Hogsmeade when Miller caught sight of a black boot on the side of the path. Sending up sparks from her wand, she waded into the snowy underbrush.

He was there, clothing in shreds, one boot missing. Breathing shallowly, he was not conscious as they brought him to the castle.

Later, it was discovered that this was for the best, as he had at least several shattered ribs, a broken arm, and a broken ankle.

His nose had thankfully been spared.

When Hermione heard the news that he had been found, she outstripped the headmistress, leaving her behind in her haste for the infirmary. By the time they brought him in, she was assisting Poppy with preparations.

Potions and bandages were nearby. A bed had been made, blankets were close at hand, a hospital gown was draped over a chair.

She gasped when she first saw him. His skin was blue from the cold, and his face was bloodied. One lip was torn and bleeding, and one eye was swollen shut, a bruise already forming on his cheek.

Hermione was pushed outside the curtain as it closed, the torn clothes quickly being removed to make way for warm garments.

"I think these are Charmed," Hermione heard Poppy say. "The hat and scarf too. And good thing. He probably wouldn't have made it this long without them."

Her hand flew to her mouth as she realized the import of Poppy's words, and she fell into a nearby chair.

In the chaos of the situation, she hadn't even noticed that he was wearing her knit cap.

Drawing her feet close, her chest heaved in silent sobs as she waited for news of her beloved professor.

By the time the curtain was pulled back, her sobs had slowed to sniffles, and her head was resting against her drawn-up knees.

"He isn't conscious yet, but you may come see him, Miss Granger. I trust you will not disturb him."

Shaking her head at the matron even as she moved closer, she stepped up to the edge of the bed and took in the changes.

His dirty, wet, torn robes were in a heap in a corner, and he was now comfortably dressed in a standard-issue gown. His bruise was now faded, the blood was gone, and his lip would be healed by morning.

He still looked horrible, and Hermione couldn't help but walk near and take his hand, still chilly, in hers.

She sat with him until late night became early morning, watching the snow fall and listening to his easy breathing. Eventually she was shooed to her own rooms, where she found Ginny sleeping on top of her covers.

The redhead woke as Hermione came in.

"How is he?" she asked groggily.

"Unconscious, but he'll live," whispered Hermione. "Why are you in here?"

"Because if it was Harry, you'd be in my room," said Ginny with a shrug. "Harry would have been in here too, but, you know, the stairs. He isn't my favorite guy, but we trust you, 'Mione. I just needed to make sure you were okay."

"Thanks. I'm good now. Night."

Hermione was asleep by the time her head hit the pillow.

~~HGSS~~

In the morning, Hermione somehow made it to her classes. She was surprised, however, when McGonagall interrupted her Charms class.

"May I speak to Miss Granger please?"

"Certainly, Headmistress!" He waved to Hermione as she slipped out of her seat.

"I'm afraid she may not be back."

"That's quite all right," Flitwick said, suddenly serious. Having been there when they found Snape the night before, he knew about the connection between his coworker and the girl and assumed it was in regards to his condition. "Miss Granger is quite ahead as it is. Take the rest of the class."

"Thank you, sir," said Hermione and went to see what Minerva needed.

She was surprised that Minerva did not just stop outside the room to speak with her, instead walking and expecting Hermione to follow, which she did.

"I'm afraid Severus needs you," she said gravely, giving Hermione a start.

"Is he awake?"

"No, and likely will not be for awhile. Possibly this evening. His body needs to recover, and we are thankful he is not conscious to experience the pain. However, Poppy is having trouble keeping him sedated and calm. He thrashed quite a bit after you were sent to bed last evening. He can't be Stunned if his bones and bruises are to mend properly. We are at our wit's end, and the only thing we can think of is that perhaps his rest is tied to you." Minerva stopped in the middle of the hallway, just outside the infirmary. "Will you help him, Hermione? Would you mind sitting with him, and maybe playing a little, to see if it allows him to rest?"

Hermione shook her head, not trusting herself to speak without crying. No, she didn't mind. She didn't mind at all.

Minerva led her to the far side of the room where a single curtain was pulled around Severus's bed. She stepped in to find him much as he had been the night before, inky black hair making a sharp contrast to the sterile white gown and bed linen. The hysterical part of her brain noted this was the first time she had seen him in anything other than his typical dress. He looked smaller somehow.

The circles beneath his eyes were dark, and he jerked even as she watched him.

She hesitantly stepped forward and looked at McGonagall. The older woman just gave her a nod and stepped back behind the curtain. She heard the click of her footfalls as she exited the room.

Hermione looked back to her professor and reached out to gently touch his hand. She jerked back quickly, wondering if he would be angry at her for taking such a liberty but then decided he was in no position to argue and took his hand.

He let out a raspy breath, and it sounded as though he was trying to talk. She leaned closer to see if she could catch the words.

"Heh," he said, "He…Hermione." And then he laid still.

She whipped her head around to look behind her, certain she would find Lavender tearing through the room.

"I'm here, Severus," she said and stroked the back of his palm.

After a while, she pulled back part of the curtain to reveal the large, open area outside his room. With no one but Poppy around, she enlarged the piano and set the chess set on top, allowing them to have the first song. (2) Moving back to the bed, she leaned forward to once again take his hand in hers, her own fear comforted by the feel of his palm and his fingers intertwined with hers.

Soon, the long, soft strains of "Lux Aurumque" filled the cavernous room. Hermione couldn't help but note the hospital wing had excellent acoustics, the sound rich and warm, making the air vibrate with tone.

The winds drove the song forward, rising up in a crescendo of emotion, giving Hermione's worry and concern a musical tone.

She didn't notice a white figure in the pile of black on the floor. At some point in the night, the king had wriggled himself free and was observing his mistress as she tended to the Dark Man. He watched her tenderness and compassion with an ache in heart.

His Hermione truly loved Dark Man as he knew Dark Man loved her.

Hermione slipped behind the piano at the end of the song.

She nibbled her lip, apprehensive at showing so much of herself, but she decided that if he was unconscious, her feelings would be safe with the silence and Madam Pomfrey.

After a few spaced chords on the piano, she began to sing. (3)

"'Spend all your time waiting for that second chance, for a break that would make it okay. There's always some reason to feel not good enough, and it's hard at the end of the day. I need some distraction, oh, beautiful release. Memory seeps from my veins. Let me be empty and weightless and maybe I'll find some peace tonight.'"

There was no other word for it; her heart grieved. How many nights had he spent in here, unknown to the students, his life hanging in the balance in his effort to save them all from suffering? To save those who had treated him so poorly? Did Dumbledore sit with him and speak with him like she was now?

Or would he be here alone with only the silence and the cold to keep him company?

Well, tonight was going to be different.

"'In the arms of an angel, fly away from here. From this dark cold hotel room, and the endlessness that you fear. You are pulled from the wreckage of your silent reverie. You're in the arms of the angel. May you find some comfort here.'"

The chords echoed through the empty room like the beats of her heavy heart, hoping he knew someone recognized what he sacrificed, and even though she had lost her parents, she knew much more would have been lost without him.

"'So tired of the straight line, and everywhere you turn, there's vultures and thieves at your back. And the storm keeps on twisting. You keep on building the lies that you make up for all that you lack. It don't make no difference, escaping one last time. It's easier to believe in this sweet madness, oh, this glorious sadness that brings me to my knees.'"

She had an inkling of why he acted as he did. He built lies to hide what he believed, what he had been taught were his failings. People, situations, nothing was ever straight with him. Nothing was ever honest and true. His life had been Slytherin at its worst, with nothing and no one to trust.

But she was different. Hermione was different. He was in her arms now, the arms of his angel, and she would show him as best as she could that it didn't have to be that way, and someone could want to be with him just for the joy and pleasure of being with him.

"'In the arms of an angel, fly away from here. From this dark cold hotel room, and the endlessness that you fear. You are pulled from the wreckage of your silent reverie. You're in the arms of the angel. May you find some comfort here.'"

She slid back to his bedside, watching him and lightly touching his smooth cheeks and soft lips. Laying her head on the large pillow beside him, she whispered, "I'll never leave you."

"You were gone."

She gasped and sat up straight. His blood-shot eyes were half-lidded and his voice raspy as he spoke.

"You left me."

"I was-," she choked, "I was with Minerva. She…she wanted to review the year. I'm so sorry, I didn't know you would think I wasn't coming."

She had been planning on playing more, but now that he was awake, she was loathe to leave his bedside and instead let the symphony play on its own, trusting it to pick a selection that would fit her mood. (4)

It did, and "Adagio for Strings" filled the room.

He tried to focus on the brown eyes. He couldn't. The pain was too raw. She shouldn't be here. She shouldn't be wasting her time over a worthless man like him. He couldn't even spy now. He was nothing.

"Where were you?" she asked, still holding his hand. "What happened?"

"He knows," he said simply. "He knows about…he knows. I can't go back."

"Shh," she told him. "You don't have to. You never have to go back. You're safe now."

"They found me. Three of them. They…they know."

She leaned close to him and wrapped an arm around his, showing him support. "It's alright. What do they know?"

"They know that I…I…" He looked over her shoulder, not able to meet her eyes, "I was disloyal."

Her chest ached to hear him. "You were loyal. You were faithful to the side of the Light. You were protecting people. Severus, you played both sides longer than I bet anyone thought possible. No one will be angry but Volde…the Dark Lord, and we don't give a niffler's tail what he thinks, right?"

He tried to smile. "Right."

"Then I don't want to hear any of this nonsense about him and his opinions. I'd tell you exactly what I think of his ideas, but I don't think your innocent ears can handle it."

He chuckled weakly, and she felt a bit of the tension ease. The least she could do was make him laugh.

Hermione was still holding his hand when Madam Pomfrey came bustling around the curtain. The matron started for a moment, looking at their joined hands, cast immediate judgment, and went right back to business. Apparently she had seen more disturbing things than Professor Snape and a student. Hermione's mind boggled, wondering what that might have been.

"Awake now, are you? Well, welcome back. Take this straight away, and I don't want to hear any complaint about the taste. If you have a problem with it, you take it straight to the brewer."

"Who's the brewer?" Hermione asked.

"Me," he said and winced as he downed the dark green fluid.

"Don't think you'll be leaving this bed anytime soon either. I'll assist you to the restroom, but other than that, your bottom is staying put for a change! The headmistress will be here any moment and-"

"Oh, Severus," they all heard Minerva exclaim, "I'm so happy to see you're back."

"Yes, well. Hello," he said noncommittally.

"What on earth happened to you?"

"I was attacked by three Death Eaters," he told them, taking a few pauses as he spoke to breathe, the swelling from his ribs not entirely gone. "They came upon me outside Hogsmeade. They know, Minerva. _He_ knows. He knows about-," his eyes flicked to Hermione, who was watching the headmistress, "he knows about everything."

"I hate to say it, Severus, but I'm almost relieved. I hated sending you back there knowing it was only a matter of time before you were discovered. You've done well, son, now get some well-earned rest. Mr. Malfoy can take it from here."

"Malfoy?" Hermione asked Severus.

"Draco has been accompanying his father since before Dumbledore…since…"

"I understand," she said. "And now he spies for us?"

"Correct."

"So, we still have our contact, and now we have one less way of being discovered."

"Correct."

"So then it's a good thing," she told him, giving his hand a squeeze for emphasis.

"I suppose."

The white king was watching this exchange from his perch on the pile of clothes. It was clear they both had feelings for each other.

As much as he yearned for Hermione, he did not think it was honorable to come between two people so obviously in love.

He sighed.

Perhaps, if it would make his Hermione happy, he would show Dark Man how to woo a woman because he was obviously clueless.

He looked up to see Old Man looking down at him from a painting of a forest.

"I know," said Old Man, "I see them too. Give Severus a nudge. I'll have a chat with Miss Granger."

The chess piece nodded. He could show Dark Man how to be a smooth Casanova.

After a brief chat with McGonagall, Snape let out a huge yawn.

"That's enough then. Off with all of you. You can come see him in the morning," Madam Pomfrey told all of them.

He nodded his goodbye to Minerva and quickly grabbed the tips of Hermione's fingers as she left, asking her, "You will return tomorrow?"

"If you like. I can be up after classes."

"Only if you wish to. You do not need to short yourself on my behalf."

She gave him a smile. "I'll be here."

Tempted as she was to stop and give him a quick kiss before she left, she was mindful of the matron's eyes on them and simply slipped from the room.

She returned to the dorm to find all of her friends waiting for her.

"Dude, a teacher, like, got attacked?" asked Lorrell disbelievingly. "That shit never happened at home."

"Well, you probably don't have a sociopath on the loose either, do ya, love?" Ron told her.

Lorrell agreed, and the rest continued to ask Hermione questions.

"Why were you up there so long?" Harry asked.

Ginny smacked his arm from where she was sitting next to him on the couch. "It doesn't matter why she was up there," she told him, trying to cover for her friend, vowing to find out the truth later. "You know that she helps him get his rest, and I can't imagine he is sleeping very well at the moment, all things considered."

Hermione nodded. "He was fighting the potions and disturbing the healing bones while he slept. Minerva asked if I would play for him, hoping it would help him settle, because Madam Pomfrey couldn't think of anything else to do. She couldn't exactly Petrify him when she didn't know when he would wake up. So I went and played for a while."

"So he can't spy now?" Ron asked.

"No. He didn't say how, but Voldemort knows he is a double agent."

"Wow," said Lorrell. "He must be so brave."

"Yea, well, we all are, who fight on the side of the Light," said Ron, and Lorrell gave him a reassuring grin, patting his arm.

"I know, Red. But let me know next time you get your ribs broken fighting Death Eaters."

"Hey, some of us were injured in the battle at the Ministry. Hermione got cut up real bad, didn't you, Hermione?"

Hermione had a pained express on her face, the scars on her torso caused by Dolohov not being a favorite subject.

"And my dad almost died too, if it wasn't for Harry."

"We just need to watch out for each other," said Hermione. "And we don't have to worry about being brave. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to bed."

She trudged up the stairs and climbed into her bed. Before she went to sleep, she had one last thought.

"Dobby!"

"Yes, Miss?" asked the elf, popping into her room.

"Would you mind…?"

~~HGSS~~

Snape was laying in the calm quiet of the infirmary, staring at the ceiling. An hour or more he had laid here after they had all departed, wondering how he was ever going to get to sleep. He was contemplating asking Poppy for a sleeping draught since he would not have to teach in the morning.

Suddenly, he heard the crack of a house elf.

"What?" he asked the elf harshly.

The elf squeaked. "Miss Harry Potter's Friend asked me to bring this to you."

And with that, the elf tossed a small object on Snape's bed and popped away.

It was the wand.

With a swish and flick, the music and memories lulled him into restful slumber.

**Teaser:** And to top it off, the white king seemed to have lost its mind as well. It was attempting to pin flowers on his jacket and nudging certain colognes and potions toward him in the mornings. Once, a book of Byron fell off his bookshelf as he was reading, revealing the little king behind it.


	21. Chapter 21

**Author's Note:** There are no videos for this chapter. One, because there are only snippets except for one song, and two, because my laptop's motherboard fried this weekend, and I have no access to my music. I should have it replaced and ready to go by next Sunday. Most of these you should know, and I've included a list at the end. Welcome new readers! Reviews are always appreciated.

**Chapter Twenty One**

It had been over a week, and Severus Snape was losing his mind. Poppy had refused to let him out of his rooms for two full weeks, insisting that after all the torture he had been through before, combined with that fateful night, his body had earned a vacation.

She had even had his doors warded in case he tried to leave. Wretch.

Slughorn had come back to teach his students while he recovered. The official story was that there had been a Potions accident. Rumors, however, were wildly varied. Some of them were close, such as the one that said that Voldemort had tortured him for not attacking the students. Others – that he was a vampire out to feed, he had accidentally turned his hair pink and refused to be seen, he had actually killed a student with his glare – were a little more farfetched.

He still had two more days of confinement, and he wasn't sure how he wanted to pass them. His grading was finished and sitting in a neat pile on his desk, and Slughorn was handling the current assignments. Hermione had only been down once briefly, awkwardly, to visit him, and now he found even grading her papers painful.

And, to top it off, the white king seemed to have lost its mind as well. It was attempting to pin flowers on his jacket and nudging certain colognes and potions toward him in the mornings. Once, a book of Byron fell off his bookshelf as he was reading, revealing the little king behind it. It was even bursting into song on a daily basis. Severus had only barely managed to keep Hermione from hearing it when she came to visit and the king had felt the need to belt out, "'Pretty woman, walking down the street. Pretty woman, the kind I like to meet. Pretty woman, I don't believe you, you're not the truth. No one could look as good as you.'"

He was almost positive she had heard the piece when it growled, "'Mercy,'" from his pocket as he left the room, and he fervently prayed she hadn't attributed it to him.

She promised to come see him tonight and bring him dinner. The day couldn't pass any slower as he waited for the evening.

~~HGSS ~~

Hermione had had a hard time during the week as well. Potions was almost physically painful after shifting from Severus to Professor Slughorn. First of all, the only thing Hermione could think about was that stupid book. Harry had immediately started acting like he was better than her in Potions again, when anyone who knew about the book knew the truth. And, of course, it hadn't helped that Slughorn treated him like a prince of Potions anyway.

By the end of the first week, however, even Professor Slughorn was getting on the right bandwagon and starting to call on Hermione when it became apparent Harry was clueless without the book and with his Kia on the outs with him.

"Harry, m'boy! I bet you can tell us a potion that uses human parts," said Slughorn.

After a moment or two, it became clear that Harry was drawing another blank and wasn't going to answer.

Hermione raised her hand and interjected, "Polyjuice Potion."

"Excellent, Miss Granger! Take five points," said Professor Slughorn before going back to the rest of the class with a last, weary look to Harry.

Hermione rolled her eyes at Harry as soon as they exited. "Not so smart without your book, are you? I certainly hope it taught you a thing or two."

"I know, I know. I'm not going to try any spells without knowing what they do," said Harry.

"I meant not to judge a book by its cover. You know, you had a lot of respect for the Half-Blood Prince last summer. Not so much now that you know who he is?"

"I don't know. I try not to think about it."

Hermione walked beside him as they headed to their dorms. "You know that the two of us are friends now. I really didn't appreciate the reception I received after I went to visit him."

It had been hard enough for her to go and visit him in the first place. She had never been in his chambers before, except for sticking her head in when she was looking for him – which she had confessed to and apologized for repeatedly.

She had seen him in the hospital wing before he had been moved to his own rooms, and that had been awkward. She had found him sullen and withdrawn. After the dramatic changes to his life, he needed to figure out how he fit in the grand scheme of things again. Twenty years of dedication to a role, now suddenly freed. She supposed it was like retiring or finishing school. The big question hung over his head.

Now what?

Hermione was hoping that the rest period away from class would give him the time he needed to emerge from this liminal state. There were other ways he could contribute, if he still felt compelled to do so. If he decided he had given enough, no one would argue that either.

She had played her piano softly in the corner of the infirmary during her visit, giving him his solitude while still showing her support with her presence. The next time she went to see him, he had been moved, but Professor McGonagall had told her how to find his chambers.

It had taken her a few days to work up the courage. Vaunted Gryffindor or not, no one, especially no student, wantonly walked into the chambers of Severus Snape. She was his friend now, but this was still not a line she crossed lightly.

She had fretted about it for a while, whether it was better to go and risk him being angry, or whether it was better to not go and risk him being angry. In the end, she had fallen back on the tried and true method of finding out if he wanted to see her.

_May I come visit?_

_Yes._

And so that day after dinner, she had grabbed him a few of the biscuits he preferred off the table and gone to visit him.

She stared at the portrait covering his door for several moments before gathering the courage to knock. One she entered, she was startled to find…a normal room.

A living room that would not have been out of place in most houses greeted her. It was Hogwarts fashion, but at least it was more pleasant than his office. Nothing of peculiar origin in here, though she noted the Death Eater robes in a pile in the corner.

He was on the dark brown sofa in his full regalia. Wearing his coat even in the privacy of his own rooms made her laugh inside. Some habits die hard.

They made awkward small talk until he stiffly stood up and quickly left the room, apologizing. Hermione swore she heard a muffled "Mercy" as he left, and she was worried that she had overstayed her welcome. When he returned, she was surprised to see he had shed the jacket and was now dressed in simple black slacks and a white, button-down dress shirt.

Hermione rubbed her palms on her legs and straightened her robes. Merlin, he looked good. So aloof and casual on the sofa, legs stretched out and ankles crossed. He was all man.

She left shortly after he returned, still concerned about his comment earlier, and afraid she would do something she might regret later if she stayed. It was terribly hard to sit in the room and not touch him.

The confinement was hard on him, but she hesitated before seeing him again. The want was there, but that was part of the problem.

The want was there.

Not to mention that she really didn't want to aggravate him if he didn't want her around during his convalescence. Plus, her friends had been less than supportive, which brought her back to the conversation at hand.

"Well, you have to admit, Hermione, it's a bit much to take in, even for me. And I've dealt with some pretty strange stuff."

"You could have stopped Ron from yelling, 'Mother of Merlin, Hermione, what the hell were you thinking?'"

"Ouroboros," Harry spoke, and the portrait of the Fat Lady opened to admit him and Hermione into the quiet common room. Two students were playing chess in the corner, and one young girl was poring over her Transfiguration text, so the two friends found quiet seats to continue their discussion.

"So Ron overreacted a bit. He's Ron. But even though you two are friends, and he may be nice," Harry said with a grimace, "to you, he is still a git to the rest of us."

"Are you going to be able to handle this? Because I am friends with him. And he needs me right now, Harry."

"God, don't say things like that."

"Sorry, but it's true. He doesn't have people to talk to, and I want to be able to go visit him without coming back to minor meltdowns from those nearest and dearest to me." Hermione crossed her arms in a fashion Harry was familiar with. It said to agree with her or suffer the consequences, and the consequences would be dire.

"I can promise for myself, but Ron is a different story."

"Harry?"

"Hermione?"

She worried her lip and looked past him to the wall beyond. Her arms were still crossed, and her eyes had the faraway look that said she was considering something of importance.

"What happens if we become more than friends?"

"Gods, Hermione!" said Harry, jerking up in his chair from his previously lax position. "That's not funny! ...You're serious. You're serious, aren't you? Do you fancy him? Hermione, do you fancy that greasy git? Snape?"

"Professor Snape, Harry, and don't call people things that can apply just as well to yourself. I'm not saying anything, but, you know, things could happen. Who knows what tomorrow will bring? I will be working here next semester after all."

Harry looked mortally wounded. His eyes were wide and green, mouth agape with a horrified expression.

"Maybe I do fancy him. A bit," Hermione admitted quietly. She looked at him with pain evident in her eyes. She was truly afraid of losing the first friends she had made at Hogwarts. "Will you still be friends with me? And would you, if he returns my feelings?"

Harry had managed to close his mouth and was regarding his friend seriously. Hermione didn't take relationships lightly, and obviously she cared for him if she kept going to visit and spend time with him in the evenings. "Is there any reason you think he might?" he asked, out of curiosity and disbelief.

"He kissed me on New Year's."

"THE HELL, HERMIONE! Don't you tell me anything anymore?"

"I didn't know what to say! I still don't know what to say. This is not exactly an everyday occurrence." Hermione curled her knees to her chest in her chair and wrapped her arms around them. She really didn't know what to say. Was telling Harry even a good idea? She didn't know, but she knew that not telling him was killing her. "You're my best friend, Harry. I don't know what I'd do if you didn't talk to me anymore."

Harry moved over and put his arm around Hermione. "I'm still your friend, Hermione. Even if you go off and have a brood of moody, black-haired babies. You just can't spring stuff like that on a bloke."

She looked at him. "You realize you could be talking about your own children? You two are more alike than you probably want to think about."

"You're right. I don't want to think about it. So he kissed you? Seriously?"

She nodded her head. "It was at the staff party. It was just once, quick."

"And then what happened?" he asked her.

"He got called off to Voldemort."

"It's always something," said Harry.

~~HGSS~~

He was not exactly patiently waiting for her to come visit that evening.

With grading complete and no new class work coming in, Snape had little to occupy his time. He was not used to so much leisure time. He found he was only truly content searching for a way to kill the Dark Lord. Vol-Voldemort. He was learning to say the name of his ex-master, in his head at least. Some day it would be easy or commonplace. That day was not today.

He had been perusing his library for new ideas for research, attempting to exploit some weakness in the fortifications of his nemesis. He had found nothing new, these texts having been searched many times over in the past, and he longed for the time when he could have the library of Hogwarts again at his fingertips.

The count in his portrait interrupted his musings. "A Miss Granger is here for you, sir."

Running a hand through his hair and making sure his clothes were not too rumpled, he opened the portrait.

Looking like a Muggle waitress, Hermione stepped through the hole. She had a tray in each hand, one carrying dinner and one containing a drink, dessert, and an apple.

With Hermione in his life, he certainly wasn't going to starve.

After exchanging pleasantries, he directed her to where she could set the trays down on the coffee table.

"You will be staying then?" he asked her.

"That's up to you," she carefully stated. "I have nothing planned for tonight, and I don't mind staying if you like, but if you prefer to be alone then I can find something to do as well."

"You may stay," he said, taking a seat on the sofa, not seeing the white king mimic his words from his pocket.

'You may stay', indeed! This man definitely needed him.

Severus raised his eyebrow as she sat herself in the chair and reached across him to snatch the apple off the tray.

"What? I cut dinner short to come down here and was still a little hungry. Did you want the apple? I'll trade you for the pie."

"You may keep the apple. I don't care much for vegetation."

"That's what I thought," she said with a smile. "Mind if I crack a book while you eat?"

He gave her a neutral shrug, and she went to examine his bookcases, curious about what he would have on his shelves and elated to learn the answer. She worked her way down from the top, slowly bending over to look lower and lower, unwittingly giving the good professor a delicious view of an apple-round bottom that made him completely forget about the previous fruit.

He sat there, fork poised halfway through its travels, until he heard the voice in his pocket. "'The clothes she wears, the sexy ways, make an old man wish for younger days. She knows she's built and knows how to please sure enough to knock a man to his knees.'"

Snape hissed at the king, "Will you be quiet?"

"'She's a brick house,'" sang the king by way of explanation for his behavior.

"What was that, Severus?" Hermione asked, still bent over and merely peering around her luscious thigh.

"Must be my stomach," he told her and made a show of taking another bite.

Shaking her head, she went back to finding a book. When she found something that looked interesting, she took a seat, curled in the chair, letting him finish his dinner in companionable silence.

All she needed was her knitting needles and her cat to make his vision complete.

After a house elf had come to clear his dishes, he noticed that she did not have her pack with her and thus must not have been planning on playing that night. It was odd that she would visit with no motivation. Every other visit had been to play.

This one was apparently just for pleasure, and he found himself intrigued with that idea.

"How are you doing down here by yourself? Managing to stay busy?"

"Not particularly, not that it matters," he told her bitterly.

"What do you mean?"

He waved his hand about the room. "Look at me. Look at this. I have no purpose now."

She looked at him, surprised. "Your whole life was hanging on Voldemort?"

"Of course it was! I've spent twenty years doing penance for being a dunderhead in my youth and getting my friend killed, working both sides of the coin to assist that crazy old codger, and now look at me. Now what? Without that purpose, there is nothing."

She had a wistful and sad look on her face. "You have no dreams? Nothing you would like to do with your freedom?"

"Why? Why do you care? Not one gives a rat's arse about what becomes of me now. I'll be expected to finish out the year and then? Minerva will no longer feel compelled to keep me here, unless I am being targeted directly. I have no friends, no family," he said morosely, "just some prying young chit who won't throw me out and let me die off quietly it seems."

Suddenly, she was on her feet, book dropped to the floor, and she reached over and pinned him in a tight embrace.

He felt like she was actually hugging him in anger.

Just as quickly, she stepped back, leaving him stunned by the intensity of her reaction to his words. "I'm not trying to pry into your life, and I would never throw you away. I care about you, you prickly little pain-in-the-butt porcupine. So buck up, and deal with it. I worry about what you'll become. Enough to fight with you about it. So I'm going to tell you that you had better find a purpose for your life pretty damned quick and start treating yourself with respect, or no one else will either. Floss, eat your veggies, and crack a smile every once in a while. I _care,_ so you had better start acting like you do too."

He looked at her in shock. Apparently, his kissing her on New Year's had not frightened her off in the least.

"'Yes, you want her,'" sang his pocket softly, caressingly. "'Look at her, you know you do. It's possible she wants you, too. There is one way to ask her.'"

He could only imagine this was what it was like to have a devil on your shoulder.

"'It don't take a word, not a single word. Go on and kiss the girl.'"

Hermione was still glaring at him in that protective, fierce way.

"Perhaps…I have a purpose for living," he told her softly, then added even softer, "chit."

"Eeyore," she told him without blinking an eye.

She wasn't there for too much longer, and after she left, the room was unnaturally silent. It had felt right having her there with him, there in his chambers. It felt as though she was the candle missing from the darkness in his life, and the more she was around, the more he missed having her.

He took the white king out of his pocket and held it on his palm, eyeing it speculatively. He was a little disconcerted to find the king staring back.

"You were in a feisty mood this evening."

The white king pointed to Snape, indicating its next words were on his behalf. "'This morning, I woke up with this feeling I didn't know how to deal with, and so I just decided to myself I'd hide it to myself and never talk about it, and didn't I go and shout it when you walked into the room. 'I think I love you!' I think I love you. So what am I so afraid of? I'm afraid that I'm not sure of a love there is no cure for.'"

Severus crossed his arms and glared at the king. "So you think I love her and just don't want to admit it?"

The white king nodded emphatically.

"And why would I possibly entertain the idea of saying anything?"

The king rolled his eyes. "'I've seen her expression as she looks in your direction. It's there in her eyes. You say there's no connection, you don't think that's her intention. Baby, you must be blind. I know that she wants you, she wants you, she wants you. I know it instinctively.'"

The older man raised a brow. "Doesn't a woman sing that song?"

The king just shrugged. Apparently, it was equal opportunity.

"And why do you want me to say something? I thought you had a bit of a thing for her."

The king looked so morose that Snape almost regretted asking the question.

"'Annie waits for a call from a friend. The same, it's the same, was it always the same? Annie waits for the last time,'" the king said sadly. "'Annie waits. But not for me.'"

"So you think she is becoming impatient waiting for me and not for you?"

Dark Man obviously wasn't as dumb as he looked. The chess piece had been afraid he was going to be like its mistress's scarred friend.

Or, heaven forbid, like Ginger.

"You are the demented Dumbledore of enchanted objects."

The white king hopped off his hand and shot him what looked like a stone middle finger as it made its way to the writing desk.

It looked like he was going to be alone in his chambers tonight. It did not bode well for his relationship with Hermione if even her enchantments didn't like him.

When he was finally released from confinement, it was not a moment too soon. The white king evidently didn't hold a grudge, as that next morning it was back to its singing again.

To make things worse, the king also resisted any efforts to leave it behind when Snape headed to class. Whether through its own volition or a defect of the charm, the king was now attached to his person. Muttering every threat he could conjure, he made his way to his first Potions class in a very sour mood, despite the fact that he was liberated and Hermione was in this class.

In fact, considering how the king acted around her, it was partly because of her impending presence that he was in a disagreeable mood.

He was thankful that this was a NEWT-level course, and he was therefore not expected to babysit the Neanderthals as they brewed their daily assignment.

A calculated eye was kept on the class, surveying the diligent students. All Houses were combined in this class since so few students were accepted at this level, but they mostly treated each other with respect.

Mostly. He still couldn't forget the incident between Hermione and Miss Parkinson earlier in the year.

Standing at the front of the class now had its advantages. Not only could he watch for brewing errors and developing arguments, but it kept the students unaware of his current predicament.

"'I've been really tryin', baby, tryin' to hold back this feeling for so long. And if you feel like I feel, baby, then, c'mon, oh, c'mon. Let's get it on. Ah, baby, let's get it on.'"

If ever there was a moment in his life that he wished to see the Dark Lord's wand pointed at himself, this was it.

"'There's nothing wrong with me loving you, baby, no, no. And giving yourself to me can never be wrong if the love is true. Don't you know how sweet and wonderful life can be? I'm asking you, baby, to get it on with me.'"

The small piece was in its usual pocket, wrapped tightly in Hermione's handkerchief, surrounded by a pair of socks to diminish the sound and movement as much as possible. Even still, Professor Snape could hear the ridiculous song muffled within and could feel the slight sway of the piece as it sang.

The bell rang, and in a harsh voice he ordered the students to bring up samples of their brewing for the day. He had not expected them to complete the potion but was not surprised to see Hermione's perfectly pale, purple potion (piss it!) as she and the Dreadful Duo (dammit!) approached the desk.

Even over the sound of the students and his personal juke-pocket, he could hear the conversation going on between Hermione and Mister Weasley.

"Doesn't seem right, Hermione. I don't like it," Ron whispered.

"Probably why I didn't ask you then, Ron. I'm just telling you how things are."

"But why would he want to see you?"

"Oh, I don't know, Ron, why did you want to see me, huh? Why do you want to be with me now? In fact, why do we continue with this farce of a friendship at all?"

Ron was smart enough to realize when he had spoken the wrong words and needed to get the train off that particular track. "I didn't mean it like that, 'Mione. I just mean it's not right to be spending time like that with an older bloke. And he's _him_."

Ah. So they were obviously talking about him then. Interest piqued, he paid attention as he halfheartedly accepted the other students' samples.

"Astute observation, Ronald. It's a wonder I don't look to you for academic advice as well."

"Yea, ha ha. We all know you're Kia. But he's just…cranky…and old…and cranky."

They were getting close to the desk now, and Hermione stopped and faced Ron with her arms crossed while she waited her turn. "Why don't you say it a little louder, Ron, so he can hear you," she whispered.

"He doesn't know we're talking about him," Ron retorted.

"He's Professor Snape, Ron. There isn't much he doesn't know, gossip or otherwise."

The professor stood a little straighter at her defense of his abilities.

As the three students approached the desk – Harry, wisely for once, had stayed out of the conversation – Severus took the three samples. He wordlessly put Potter's in the rack, placed Hermione's with a little nod, and then held up Ron's sample for closer inspection.

He was briefly able to ignore the still-singing pocket as he examined the small vial.

"'You don't have to worry that it's wrong. If the spirit moves you, let me groove you good. Let your love come down. Oh, get it on, come on, baby.'"

Ron looked around, confused, before asking Harry, "That you, mate?"

The three students felt the tingle of nonverbal magic as Ron's potion disappeared.

"Pity," said Snape, looking at the vial as though he was surprised it was empty. "Clearly, a pity. That's a zero for the day then, Weasley, and next time I suggest you pay more attention to your potion than your classmates."

Three students stared back at him, one becoming practically apoplectic and two, surprisingly, with small smirks on their faces, hidden so that their seething friend would not see them.

The protests could clearly be heard from the hallway as they left, with Hermione chastising her friend for his rude behavior.

~~HGSS~~

Back in the common room, Ron was still incensed about the incident in Potions.

"He just Vanished my potion! I know he did!"

"You can't prove anything, Ron," said Hermione. "And even if you could, it's the least you deserve for the way you were acting. You know he could have done much worse than a zero for the lesson."

"That's not the point though, is it?" said Ron, pacing back and forth in front of Harry, Ginny, Lorrell, and Hermione.

"Well, I mean, if you were acting like an asshole, then it only makes sense that he would act like an asshole in return, Red," Lorrell told her boyfriend.

"But he's been a right git to Harry since our first day here!"

"Oh, so are you whining that he started it, Ron?" asked his sister.

"You know what?" said Ron. "You're mental. The whole lot of you is mental. This year, everyone seems to have forgotten that he has made our lives miserable. "

"Or maybe," said Hermione, "we've just decided to give him the chance he never had."

~~HGSS~~

For his first free evening, Professor Snape made straight for the library. After the day he had had, which had only gotten worse after his first class, the feel of a book in his hands would be a balm to his frayed nerves.

After the disaster that had been his morning, he had had to deal with the Ravenclaw/Hufflepuff sixth years. Normally that was not a troublesome class, but they had been listening to Slughorn too much and had already lost the sharp edge to their Potions skills. Not ten minutes into the class, a Hufflepuff girl added too much bicorn horn to her Polyjuice Potion, not only losing three weeks' worth of work, but also filling the room with a noxious gas, which had required evacuation until he could use a Bubblehead Charm on himself and clear the room.

He entered the quiet library, relishing the silence and musty smell of old parchment, wood, and dusty carpet.

Making his way back to his usual table, he rounded the corner in time to see one of the most enticing and endearing sights he had ever encountered, barely noticing the king's head once again protruding from his jacket and starting to sing.

"'Paid no attention, revolved through the door. Past the newspaper racks on the worn marble floor. Near Civil War history my heart skipped a beat. She was standing in fiction stretched high on bare feet,'" sang the king.

For once, his words were spot on. Hermione had shed her robes, for even though much of the castle was chilly, the library was always kept toasty warm with several large fires. She was standing in front of a high bookshelf, and her shoes could be seen slipped beneath a chair behind her. Barefoot, she stretched as high as she could, shirt riding high on her midriff, as her fingertips edged a book from its shelf.

"'Love in the library, quiet and cool. Love in the library, there are no rules. Surrounded by stories, surreal and sublime, I fell in love in the library once upon a time.'"

He watched her struggle for a moment, enjoying her appearance and her perseverance before deciding to come to the damsel's aid. Silently, he moved behind her, reached his hand above her, and grabbed the book in question. She started and turned to him, a little frightened at first, but smiling once she realized who it was.

Chest and trousers feeling the same tight reaction, it was clear that he wanted her in more ways than one and that something had to be done. Vowing to speak to her one way or another, he gave her a nervous grin in return, offered her a little bow while handing her the book, and then wordlessly proceeded to his corner to research.

And plot.

**A/Nx2:** The songs were Pretty Woman, Brickhouse, Kiss the Girl, I Think I Love You, She Wants You from Billie Piper, Annie Waits, Let's Get It On, and Love in the Library from Jimmy Buffet. I'd give you a teaser but my next chapter was on my laptop, lol. Sorry! I'll get my master copy from a friend tonight and add one on.


	22. Chapter 22

**Author's Note: **Sorry this is a bit later in the day. I still don't have a new laptop (next week, I hope!) and I had a few snafu's with video posting. My husband's ruddy netbook didn't like a few of the files so you'll notice that the first three are not of my creation. I hope to fix that tomorrow, but we'll see. Monday is our 2yr anniversary and Tuesday is an ultrasound but it'll be fix at some point, computer willing. Enjoy!

And three cheers to Kat, Kristin, and Heather, who sent me the music and the completed version of my story that I don't have access too, and always to my beta, Liongirl.

**Playlist: **http:/ /www .youtube .com/watch?v=KHtKAv6gCVc&feature=PlayList&p=7C4E5D6E7691A53A&playnext_from=PL&index=0&playnext=1

**Chapter Twenty Two**

_Happy Singles Awareness Day,_ thought Hermione sarcastically as she entered the common room to find enchanted cupids with charmed arrows shooting the students. The students were then sprinkled with rose petals and given candy or some other such nonsense.

Hermione could remember her younger self being very excited for holidays once she had found out she was a witch, just to see the new decorations, food, and traditions. Now that she was older – and still single – the affect had lost its charm. Would she ever be taken on Valentine's Day?

And of course it had to fall on a Sunday, so she didn't even have classes to distract her.

Thinking that Dark books about how to murder a genocidal Dark wizard were exactly what she needed, she made her goodbyes to her housemates.

Her breakfast was brief, not wanting to be around all of her sugary-sweet classmates. Most of her year was paired already, and Hermione sat alone on her bench at the Gryffindor table. A few students had swapped tables to sit by their significant others or the object of their interest, but that option was unavailable to Hermione. Permission or no, she did not think ambushing him at the High Table was what Minerva had imagined as discreet.

Resolutely, she trudged up to the library, which, unsurprisingly, contained no one but Madam Pince, and even Madam Pince had a jaunty card in bright pastels with a singing, beating heart on the cover.

Feeling a little sick, Hermione went to find a spot to hide.

She slowly walked the high shelves, taking to the organized books like a gnome to a garden. As far ahead as she was in her classes, even with the time she had taken off to observe teachers or to help Severus, there were few things left for her to do in the library. Not much was here for personal reading; those books had to come from the Muggle world or Flourish and Blotts (and she took great advantage of her employee discount).

Taking her time, she traversed each section slowly, picking up a few books about Transfiguration theory. Looking at the books, she had a revelation.

None of these books would matter if they did not defeat Voldemort.

The Dark wizard was increasing his attacks against Muggle-borns and sympathizers. Draco had not been privy to much while Snape was a Death Eater, but with his ousting, a position had become available. He had not yet taken the Dark Mark, but Dumbledore's task of keeping it off him may shortly become in vain. But now it would be for the side of the Light.

She kept two of the Transfiguration books but put the rest back to search for others. Hermione wanted to help find a way to vanquish their nemesis.

She was a smart enough witch to know where her strengths and weaknesses were. Fighting was not one of her strengths. She knew the spells, and she was quick, but she became too concerned for the people around her, trying to protect them. She struggled with the harsher spells, feeling remorse and guilt even before she cast.

No, she was better as a tactician. Hermione was excellent for the grunt work of research – looking through books, developing theories, testing new ideas. She was just an accessory on the field, but off it, she shined.

The different books were starting to give her theories and ideas, so she grabbed a few more and went to her favorite spot in the library.

There was a small nook off to the far side, with a large picture window. The sun streamed through the window in the evenings, and sitting there, she could almost pretend she was back in her childhood home.

She sat in the well-used armchair, the sun behind her making an umbra of her hair, with a book cradled in her lap. Hermione looked up, startled, when someone walked purposefully toward her, face down in a book.

Of course, today, of all days, it would be him.

At the last moment, he looked up and saw her with an, "Oh."

"Can I help you?" she asked.

"No, this is just where I usually sit."

"I can move," Hermione said uncertainly.

"No," he said again. "You can stay."

Professor Snape slowly sat in the chair next to her. She cast a harried glance in his direction and then wordlessly went back to her large tome. Hermione assumed that he was in the library for a purpose and not conversation.

He had truly come here for a reason, but now it was shot. He could only think of his resolution to himself to speak to her. Now, in public, was not the time. Here, in the library, was not the place. Perhaps later…

"So, what are you doing tonight?" he asked as casually as possible.

It must have sounded as bizarre to her as it did to him. She slowly looked up from her novel, one eyebrow at full arch, like he had grown Fluffy's three heads. "What am I doing tonight?" she parroted. "It's Valentine's Day."

His heart sank. This day had ceased to matter somewhere around twenty years ago, and now he failed to even mark its passage other than to monitor the castle for more than the usual dunderheads. "So, which lucky wizard will capture your heart this evening?"

Hermione never lowered her brow as she flipped back the cover of her book to read the author and answered flatly, "Derwent."

"You have no plans?"

"Um, no," she said with a laugh. "Like I said, it's Valentine's. Singles Awareness Day. I'm single, and now you're aware." She cringed, the words not coming out exactly how she had intended.

"Perhaps, if you're inclined, you could play for me later?" he said, not entirely believing his own audacity. Her brash tendencies must be rubbing off.

She smiled her lovely smile at him. "Sure, that sounds wonderful. After dinner?"

He nodded. Perhaps the brash tendencies merited further contemplation.

She continued her smile while the inner Hermione did somersaults of glee. The inner Hermione was also wondering if there was soon to be a repeat of their New Year's performance. Without the running away, of course. She tried to turn back to her book, but suddenly Derwent wasn't as interesting as he had been five minutes before.

He, too, was just turning pages to make her think he was accomplishing something. In his mind, he was telling himself that this was a bad idea. Nothing good could come from spending time with a student half his age, who was beautiful, intelligent, warm, outgoing, and who did not return his affection. He had finally decided that she hadn't protested his kiss due to shock and was now just trying to play off the entire night. Tonight, he would listen to the songs she played as they were usually very good indicators of her mood and what was going on in her life. Taking his cue from there, he would decide whether to speak to her tonight or at another arranged time about why she should not be friends with him.

He decided he couldn't even be friends with her when only having her friendship was the most blissful torture, but torture nonetheless.

He stood up and straightened his jacket. "I…I have to go. There's a…potion. I'll see you this evening."

She heaved a sigh, wondering why he always had to make a soap opera exit instead of just saying goodbye and walking away like a normal person.

Several hours later, she was brought back out of her books by a strange sound.

_Grrrrrrrumble_.

She quickly grabbed her wand and thought, "_Tempus_." It was nearly six o'clock! She had read right through lunch. No wonder her stomach was talking. Hermione uncurled her legs from the chair, wincing as the blood rushed to her long forgotten limbs and feeling the tingly sensation in her sleeping feet.

As she left the still-empty library, with several new acquisitions and walking slightly ducky, she heard a few muffled protests and looked up to see Professor Dumbledore coming through the painting of a rather large and crowded tea party. The witches, it seemed, did not approve of the wizard crashing their party.

"Hello, Miss Granger!"

"Hello, Professor. What do you want?"

The painted face scoffed a bit. "Want? Whatever makes you think I want anything?"

"Because the only time you talk to anyone is when you want something or to meddle, so which is it?" she said, stopping in the hallway to face him with her arms crossed around the shield of books held tightly to her chest.

He grinned a silly grin through his beard and told her, "Both, I suppose."

"Well, get on with it then. I'm on my way to the Great Hall, and I skipped lunch."

"I'll escort you down then."

With a bit of an eye roll and an irritated toss of her hair, she lead him down the hall, thinking of how silly it was to be escorted by a painting. It wasn't like when Sir Cadogan had had to assist them; she knew where she was going, and it did not require a password for entry, but she allowed the old man to feel like he was of some use beyond the grave.

"I wanted to talk to you about your future here at Hogwarts, Hermione."

She nodded her understanding and waited for him to continue.

"Is it your goal to become only a Transfiguration professor?"

She glared at him, irritated. "What do you mean, 'only a Transfiguration professor'? I happen to think that that is an excellent choice for a career."

"Yes, yes, of course it is, my dear. But what I mean is, do you not wish to also have a family?"

"Yes, someday," she told him, curious as to what he was getting at.

"You notice that no professors here at the castle are married."

"I have noticed," she said.

He walked the hallway with her, passing effortlessly from painting to painting. "It's rather hard to form attachments when you are on the staff here. You are away from the majority of the populace ten months out of the year, and soon, anyone younger than you is a former student! We really become a tight-knit family, and compatibility with the other professors is a major factor in considering new hires."

"All the more reason for me to be honored to have been chosen. Your point?"

"There are some things I'll always regret, Hermione. One of them is never having children and a spouse of my own. I'd hate to see that for you as well, just as I have hated to see it happen to others here in the castle. I know you are unattached at the moment, but is there no one with whom you can see having a future?"

She stopped in her tracks again, wishing he had a private office he could pull her into instead of having this conversation out in the hallway. "I'm only seventeen, Professor, regardless of my life experiences. I highly doubt anyone I have an attachment to now is going to be around for the rest of my career here. I have many friends, and I can find someone who returns my affection and doesn't run off after any stray act of intimacy!"

Hermione was angry now and almost huffing. How dare he assume that she would be a spinster at seventeen if she did not secure a man before she started her teaching?

"Hermione, I have never known you to back down from a challenge."

"This isn't a challenge! I know a lost cause when I see one."

"Do you really think so? So many people have written him off as lost. So many. We have failed at each and every turn. Don't you think you owe it to yourself, as well as to him, to just ask him what he wants instead of assuming, as we all have, that we know best? Many people could be made very happy with your answer."

She paused. "But what if he says no?"

"Then what have you lost?" he asked with his arms open in question.

"A friend."

"Ah, I doubt Severus is the kind who would give up a friend so easily." He leaned forward and said in a conspiratorial whisper, "I think there may be a little Hufflepuff inside him somewhere, but don't tell him I said that!"

She smiled hesitantly and started walking towards the hall again. "Perhaps I'll mention something."

_But I'll try to be a little Slytherin_, she thought. _I don't want to do as Minerva suggested and scare him off. Again._

Hermione went into the hall, dropping her things beside the table. She ignored Ron and Lorrell, who were sneaking kisses, and Harry and Ginny, who were giving each other nervous glances and holding hands.

She ignored Luna sitting beside Neville at their table and the beautiful necklace she was wearing today.

She ignored Seamus trying to get a date out of Parvati.

She ignored the little singing cupids belting out sonnets to their intended recipients and the anxious fidgeting of the senders.

She also ignored the overabundance of pink and red that reminded her of vomit.

Basically, she only looked to her supper. Hermione groaned a little when even her rolls and pudding came in the shape of a heart.

Hermione could hear Ron whispering to Lorrell, "I just get the chills when I'm around you."

"It's because you just ate, Ron," Hermione said, annoyed.

"What?"

"You just ate. Your blood is rushing to your abdomen from your extremities to aid in digestion, causing you to shiver and get cold. It has nothing to do with Lorrell."

"She is so single," Hermione heard the other girl whisper under her breath.

Slightly disgusted with her friends and the house elves, she grabbed another apple to go – it was red, but at least it wasn't heart-shaped.

Ron hollered, "Later, Kia," as she headed for…

Hermione paused.

They hadn't actually discussed where they were meeting.

She fumbled in her pocket, shifting her books to the other arm, and fished out her Galleon.

_Where are you? _

_In my chambers. _

_Where are we meeting?_

_RoR?_

She breathed a sigh of relief. As much as she wanted to be within those walls, she was pleased, for the moment, that they were still going to be on neutral ground.

In his chambers, he breathed a sigh of relief. He had a plan in mind, but for now, he was pleased they were still going to be on neutral ground.

Up in her rooms, Hermione was in a conundrum. She had several folders of music at her disposal, all centered on a different theme, but nothing for what she had in mind. She had never dreamed she would need something like this. A frustrated groan escaped her as she grabbed a few books and loose sheets of music.

Grumbling under her breath, she left with a wave to the various couples around the room, who were paying her no mind. It was difficult to be the only single person in the tower. Even Neville had a date for Valentine's Day. Neville! Neville Longbottom! Irritated, her footfalls fell heavy on the floor as she went to the Room of Requirement.

The magical entrance opened for her – would it ever not? – and she stepped inside to find him in his chair, waiting patiently. She had taken a little longer than she had expected, but at least he hadn't run off on her this time.

"You appear distressed," he told her.

"I hate today," she confessed.

"Eventually," he told her, "it doesn't matter anymore. It's just a day, like every other. It becomes like a birthday or Christmas. A few stand out, but mostly it's a day when others are occupied, giving you freedom to do as you wish uninterrupted. That, in itself, is a gift."

His opinion reinforced the fact that she was doing the right thing. She had hopefully changed his impression of Christmas and his birthday. Time to change Valentine's Day.

"Maybe today will be different. Maybe it will be next year. Maybe your someone is right in front of you, and you just haven't realized it yet," she said, staring into his eyes.

He snorted at her words in skepticism. He knew she was already in front of him. It was she who needed to realize it.

"I had a hard time picking songs for tonight, but I finally chose some that are near and dear to my heart. Songs that really emphasize my current state of mind. I hope they don't become overly schmaltzy."

After warming up the large piano, the slow, jazzy song filled the room. (1)

"'He's a fool and don't I know it. But a fool can have his charms. I'm in love and don't I show it, like a babe in arms. Love's the same old sad sensation. Lately, I've not slept a wink since this half-pint imitation put me on the blink.'"

He sat a little straighter in his chair, keenly listening. He had been curious as to whether she would be receptive to his attentions. Was this the hope he had been looking for?

"'I'm wild again, beguiled again. A simpering, whimpering child again. Bewitched, bothered, and bewildered am I. Couldn't sleep and wouldn't sleep when love came and told me I shouldn't sleep. Bewitched, bothered, and bewildered am I.'"

So he wasn't the only one with sleeping problems? Was that all she wanted to say?

"'Lost my heart but what of it? He is cold, I agree. He can laugh but I love it although the laugh's on me. I'll sing to him,'" Hermione sang, looking straight at his face, "'each spring to him and long for the day when I'll cling to him. Bewitched, bothered, and bewildered am I.'"

He listened as she continued to sing, nibbling slowly on a sandwich – thankfully, not heart shaped. He hadn't cared for much of dinner either.

"'I've seen a lot, I mean a lot, but now I'm like sweet seventeen a lot. Bewitched, bothered, and bewildered am I.'"

She hoped he ignored the fact that she was seventeen. The rest of the song was the important part.

Hmm. So, she can't sleep, and she's seventeen. That didn't give him much help.

After a pause in which he said nothing, she went to her next song. (2)

"'I've grown accustomed to his face. He almost makes the day begin. I've grown accustomed to the tune that he whistles night and noon. His smiles, his frowns,'" she sang with a laugh, "'his ups, his downs are second nature to me now, like breathing out and breathing in. I was serenely independent and content before we met. Surely I could always be that way again, and yet, I've grown accustomed to his look, accustomed to his voice, accustomed to his face.'"

Her slow, sultry, smoky voice swirled in spirals around him. His eyes closed as he listed to her, feeling the stirring below of something that had received too little attention, especially as of late.

"'I'm so used to hearing him say "good morning," every day. His joys, his woes, his highs, his lows are second nature to me now like breathing out and breathing in.'"

Oh, this was torture at its finest. This was why he could not be around her. The feelings she incited, the parts of him she woke that were better left dormant…

"'I'm very grateful he's a man and so easy to forget rather like a habit one can always break, and yet, I've grown accustomed to the trace of something in the air…accustomed to his face.'"

She was watching him out of the corner of her eye, wondering if she was making the right impression. He looked almost in pain, with his fists on the arms of the chair, his head back, and his eyes closed.

The small bit of his brain still functioning noticed that the song was about her getting accustomed to someone who sounded a bit like a dunderhead who didn't realize what he had. That wasn't him, was it?

She sighed. He still hadn't said anything.

She straddled the bench and waited for him for a second. Finally, she started to play some staccato chords while speaking to him. "Sometimes, today reminds me that just because a relationship isn't acknowledged right now, that doesn't mean one hasn't started, and I just don't know it yet. Sometimes, at night I find–" she started to sing (3), "'the stars are just a little brighter, up in the sky of velvet blue. The moon is just a little jealous, 'cause all that I can see is you. And everything is in slow motion, the moment that we kissed. Well, how could I have ever even dreamed it'd come to this? And if I didn't know better, I could swear I was head over heels in love.'"

Her alto voice was pretty while singing the airy song. The piano was smooth and easy over the chords, the melody solely in the words of the song.

"'I can't pretend that I don't feel it when you walk in the room. Something within me starts to quiver, something beneath me starts to move, and all that I can think of is how beautiful you are as all my coping mechanisms swiftly fall apart, and if I didn't know better, I could swear I was head over heels in love.'"

She shyly smiled at him, thinking of the times when her heart had just stopped beating when she saw him. The velvety robes at the Yule Ball, when he had brought her the rose, even when she had seen that he was alright in the hospital wing. Had no one really seen how gorgeous he was? He was attractive on a daily basis, and with a little spit and polish? Even if he never changed a thing, there would be nothing she felt she had to change. But change about herself, on the other hand…

"'Why should anyone like you like anyone like me? This could change my life forever. Something has brought us here together. Yes, its love.

"'The stars are just a little brighter. The moon is just a little jealous, and everything is in slow motion the moment that we kissed, and I guess this unexplained emotion's just too strong to dismiss. Well, you'd think I would know better than to go and fall head over heels in love.'"

She continued playing her piano but looked at him instead of the music. He had recovered from the previous song and was looking at her now with a curious expression she found adorable.

"'But I guess it's now or never... so I confess I am head over heels in love.'"

His breath hitched. Was it true? Could it be true? Did she mean him?

Please, please, just this time, let him get what he wanted. A lesser man would have given in to so many of the temptations long ago, but he had held out, knowing that Fate had something in store for him.

Please let this be it.

Her piano was relentless. No sooner had she filled him with hope than she started to play again. What would it be this time? Would his hopes be dashed? (4)

"'I have a feeling, it's a feeling I'm concealing, I don't know why. It's just a mental, sentimental alibi.'"

He was on tenterhooks. Severus could feel his skin tingling all the way to his fingertips. What was she going to say? This couldn't possibly be about Potter or Weasley. She had looked at _him_.

"'But I adore you. So strong for you. Why go on stalling? I am falling. Our love is calling, why be shy?

"'Let's fall in love. Why shouldn't we fall in love? Our hearts are made of it, let's take a chance. Why be afraid of it?'"

He wanted her to be talking about him. For once, he wanted to believe it, with no reservations, that he was someone she could adore.

"'Let's close our eyes and make our own paradise. Little we know of it, still we can try to make a go of it. We might have been meant for each other. To be or not be, let our hearts discover. Let's fall in love. Why shouldn't we fall in love? Now is the time for it, while we are young, let's fall in love.'"

She played the piano through the bridge, and the song came to a close after another repeat of the chorus. "'Let's fall in love,'" she sang as the piano faded away.

Hermione was so terribly anxious. She didn't know what more she could do to broadcast herself. Hadn't that been what she had been doing for months now, if unconsciously? Surely for two months at the very least. Did she need to be a courageous little lioness and just belt out, "I love you, Severus Snape"? It was getting to that point.

She let her fingers glide on the keys with no real ambition, stalling having to talk to him. The more seconds that passed, the more nervous she became. Was it getting warm in here? She wiped her palms on her slacks, heart fit to burst.

Professor Snape, on the other hand, was rooted to his chair. He should do it now. He should talk to her. She wanted this, right? And she was trustworthy. He could not spy for Voldemort. He was not going to put her into any more danger than she was already in.

To hell with Minerva.

"Those," he squeaked and cleared his throat, "those are the songs that have been on your mind recently?"

She nodded and joined him around the small table.

"Something similar has been on mine as well."

She nearly choked. "Oh, oh really? Have you found someone then? A special someone?"

She was going to die. That's all there was to it. Her heart was going to burst, and her brain was going to melt, and she was just going to die. Why was this chair made of pins and needles?

"Perhaps. I have yet to discuss the matter at length, however. I noticed that you were quite intense in the library this morning. Anything in particular you were researching?"

Her mind was like a top, spinning wildly with the change in topic. "Yes. I was looking for a way to give us an edge over Volde–the Dark Lord."

He looked surprised. "You may say his name. You are trying to find a way to kill him?"

"Of course. It's what I do. I research."

"Hmm." He looked contemplative. "Perhaps you would be willing to join me, perhaps, next week," he coughed, "for dinner? To further discuss our…inquiries?"

Yup. She died. This was it. This was proof she was no longer among the living. Well, if it was Heaven, who was she to argue? "That would be wonderful. Did you have a time or place in mind?"

His eyes widened at her acquiescence. "Um…uh…well…m-my chambers? Next…next Friday? I can't leave the castle, but I imagine that would be sufficient? You could further explore my library…"

"That'd be lovely," she said. "I'll come prepared to continue my…research."

He cast a lazy look down her lovely body. "As will I."

Her face flushed with joy and desire. Taking a page out of his book, she told him, "I should…I should probably get going. I have to do rounds yet, and I have class in the morning."

She gathered her music and sauntered a bit as she walked to the door. "I'll see you next Friday? Well, actually, I'll see you a few days in between then, of course, in class, but…I'm going to go."

She left him in the room, where he sat alone in the dim silence for a while, smiling.

She had said yes.

~~HGSS~~

Hermione reached the dorm at a run. Ginny noticed her panic-stricken, pale face and watched Hermione go through the bedroom door. Even over the dull roar of the common room, she could still hear Hermione's muffled scream.

Alarmed, she dropped a kiss on Harry and told him she would be right back.

Ginny knocked lightly on Hermione's door and, without waiting for an answer, stepped through.

Hermione was face down on her quilt with her robes dropped at the edge of her bed. Ginny stepped close and asked her, "Hermione? What happened?"

"I have a date, I think," Hermione squeaked in an unnaturally high voice.

"A date? That's wonderful, 'Mione! Did you ask someone?"

"No!" she squeaked.

"Oh, even better. He asked you then?"

Hermione just nodded her head into the blanket.

"Who asked you?" Ginny inquired.

"Severus! Erm, Professor Snape!"

"Holy shit." Ginny sat down hard on the edge of Hermione's bed, and Hermione rolled over with part of the blanket still covering her face.

"I know! Ginny, what am I doing to do? I can't just go down there! He's my teacher. This is so wrong. This has cataclysm written all over it. What if it turns out like Ron, and we don't like each other anymore, and things become difficult? I don't want to lose his friendship, Ginny. He is such a good friend. But I don't want this chance to pass me by."

Ginny smirked, "Perhaps you need a little of your own treatment."

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked, turning her head out of the blankets to look at her friend. (5)

Ginny sang softly, a cappella. "'I know there's something in the wake of your smile. I get a notion from the look in your eyes, yeah. You've built a love, but that love falls apart. Your little piece of heaven turns to dark.'"

"He isn't that Dark anymore. He doesn't even believe in–"

Ginny shushed her with a finger to her lips. "'Listen to your heart when he's calling for you. Listen to your heart. There's nothing else you can do. I don't know where you're going, and I don't know why,'" she sang with a smile, "'but listen to your heart before you tell him goodbye.'"

"Do you really think so, Ginny?"

"Didn't McGonagall give you the okay?"

"Yes, she did," Hermione told her, fidgeting a little.

"Well, alright then. Do you think she would have done that if she didn't think you two were serious about each other? Give it a chance. Give him a chance."

Hermione sighed. "You are way too encouraging."

Ginny laughed. "With you two out of the way, I'll have free reign of the castle! Plus, I get to hear more about him in the bedroom," she added with a wiggle of her eyebrows.

Hermione laughed with her. "Oh, I see how it is. But with two of the smartest minds in the same room together, don't think we wouldn't develop a charm to keep students at bay, even when we weren't patrolling! Or that I'm telling you anything!"

"Alright, alright, it was just a thought." Ginny stood up to leave, singing under her breath. "Snape and Hermione sitting in a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N-G."

Hermione threw a pillow at her agile friend and then buried her face in her pillows for a nice, long, girly "Squee!"

They were going to have a first date.

**Teaser:** He couldn't stand it anymore and quickly set the plate on the table where it disappeared. Snape placed a hand on her face as he dipped his head closer.


	23. Chapter 22b

**Chapter Twenty Two B**

Minerva McGonagall was, surprisingly, a closet insomniac. Years she had spent in the castle, awake at all hours. It came in handy when she was a teacher, giving her extra time to mark essays and plan lessons in the wee hours of the morning with no one to bother her except for the rare emergency from Gryffindor.

Which, of course, had picked up a bit in the years since Harry Potter had arrived at Hogwarts but was still not a nightly occurrence.

However, since she became Headmistress, she found she had little to occupy her as she burned the midnight oil, and so sometimes the oil found itself burning as Minerva walked the halls of her castle home, with only her footsteps for noise.

Tonight was one of those nights. Even though it was Valentine's Day Eve, by three in the morning, any current lovers had found their own beds for the evening, courtesy of Mr. Filch. As Minerva's reports were filed and no meetings were scheduled for the morning, she took the opportunity for a solo stroll. Sometimes Albus would accompany her, but tonight, even he was asleep in his portrait.

It was nights like this that reminded her that the old man was gone. She had his portrait to converse and consult with, but it was never really the same. Oh, he still had sound advice and the same poor jokes to tell, but something about the painted twinkle was just off. Most days she could ignore it and carry on, but sometimes, she just had to remember.

It was with these thoughts that she found herself climbing the stairs up the old Astronomy tower. It was a long ways up, even for the spry first years, and it gave her much time to contemplate as she wound around the turret.

Happy as she was that Severus was back at the castle, she wondered if he was happy. The staff had been accommodating when he returned to his post, hearing the same tales Minerva had spun to the Daily Prophet. But that didn't change the fact that none of them were really friends with the man. In fact, the only one who really visited him after his brush with the Death Eaters was Miss Granger.

Miss Granger. Now there was an enigma. Minerva knew she cared for him. But how does one cross from despised student to friend to…well, whatever? Although, Miss Granger – Hermione – had managed to endear herself to her solitary professor.

As she reached the top of the tower, Minerva drew her wand. A voice could be heard coming from the other side of the archway. A male voice. Pausing to see if she could identify the female that was surely up here with him, she listened to the conversation.

"Of course that's what you'd say. Never really one for consequences, were you? Act now, and kiss arse later if need be. Well, I've kissed enough arse, thank you, and I don't really want to get my own handed to me either."

Minerva started and began to back away from the arch. The voice in the room was Severus's! Surely, she couldn't eavesdrop on a colleague.

She stepped quietly back to the archway.

"But the other part of me remembers that she's just a girl. Barely out of her milk teeth. How can she be so certain which path to take? Gryffindor, yes, I know, thank you for reminding me. But even vaunted lionesses change their mind. Sometimes, they would prefer one of their own over a snake. And I have little in the way of recommending me...

Thank you, Albus. I'm sure she will appreciate my book collection. And yes, I do have two brain cells to rub together, unlike the majority of her friends. But I am still her professor. And I still have the stigma of being an ex-Death Eater. And she knows I was the one who murdered you…

Suicide, murder, it's all the same, old man. I'm the one who cast the curse, was I not?"

Minerva's hand covered her mouth as realization set in. Severus had come here for the same reason as she. To talk to Albus. She wasn't the only one who didn't feel completely at ease in front of his portrait, no matter how lifelike. And, unlike herself, he had few he could open up to. And one of those, Hermione, was not someone he could discuss his current predicament with.

"I did as you said I should. I asked her to dinner. She said yes, as of course you said she would. I still doubt it's purely out of affection for myself. Pity would be more like it. Or compassion, perhaps. But not…she did not accept in the same spirit the invitation was offered. That would be ridiculous. Yes, she has shown she is comfortable in my company, for some reason, but I still feel like a colt, ready to bolt at any moment. Perhaps, perhaps I'll tell her at dinner that I enjoy her friendship, and make it clear that's where things should stay."

Severus walked closer to the edge of the wall and looked down to the snow covered grounds below, oblivious to the cold. Minerva pondered that this was possibly the most she had ever heard him say. Had she really failed him as a friend?

"Do you honestly think so? I can't deal with anymore toying around, being a puppet or pawn for anyone. You're right. She wouldn't be one to do such a thing. And if any gesture on my part was unwelcome, she would not be shy in informing me of it. But that doesn't change that I am her teacher. How many will think I'm a lecherous pervert?"

"Not anyone that already knows you, Severus," spoke Minerva softly, stepping out from under the archway. "And put that away."

Severus lowered his hastily-drawn wand and slipped it back into his sleeve. "Why are you here, Minerva? And what did you hear?"

"Enough, I imagine," she told him, stepping closer to the wall herself. Looking over the edge, she said, "I came here for the same reason as you, I think. Albus is much closer here. Perhaps it's because this is where his soul is resting. Perhaps it's because it's closer to the heavens."

"You're getting maudlin in your old age."

"Why, thank you, Severus. I think that's one of the nicest things you've ever said to me."

Silence fell over them both like snow. After the chimes of the clock struck four, Minerva spoke again. "I meant that, you know. Anyone who knows you, or who was your student, knows what you would do to protect them, and that, regardless of your attitude, you've never crossed that boundary with a student in your tutelage. And protocol is in place in the event that this should happen. You will have my backing in whatever you decide, Severus. I know you will not take advantage of her. You're a good man."

"So I keep hearing," he answered, a touch of sarcasm in his otherwise quiet voice.

"You are. And whichever you decide, don't take too long. Sometimes, we wait for the perfect moment, not realizing the time that is slipping through our fingers. And then we wake up, and the time is gone and the moment is passed. Don't let it pass you, as I have."

Minerva placed her hands on the cold stone and looked down to where her mind's eye could see a form resting on the ground below. "Goodnight, Albus."

She turned and left the room as silently as she entered it, leaving behind a man with more on his mind than he had when he first came.

**A/N:** Felt we needed a bit more of his perspective, and Minerva offered to investigate. You can consider this a late birthday present to Atomicmom. This isn't specifically what she asked for, but it was the plot bunny that popped out first.


	24. Chapter 23

**A/N: **No music this week. I trust by the end you'll be happy anyway. Also, if you missed it, there is a bridge chapter-ette - Chapter 22b - that was posted a few days ago.

For those who are interested, I'm 3 ½ months now. Just had an US, here is a pick of the baby sucking it's thumb. http:/ /www .facebook .?pid=45705109&l=f1fb522311&id=21715679

Also, the original idea for Hermione's blanket came from here: http:/ /www .facebook .?pid=45772404&l=21579296da&id=21715679

**Chapter Twenty Three**

The next week was the slowest and quickest Hermione had ever experienced.

Each day seemed to crawl by. She hadn't told the boys about her Friday night plans. She trusted them to keep her confidence – mostly – but that didn't mean she wanted to listen to them try and talk her out of it all week.

Ginny was her support, and she was well used. Some days, Hermione felt like she was going to have a meltdown. Especially on the days she had Potions.

She couldn't even look at him without blushing. She could ignore him or brush it off in the Great Hall, but she couldn't very well avoid him in class.

He would walk into the room, door slamming the wall, robes in full swish, and she could feel her heart rate increase and her breathing become shallow. Her palms would become sweaty, her face would flush, and she lost the ability to concentrate. He even deducted three points from Gryffindor when he asked her a question and she just stuttered.

But then, at the end of the day, she would lie in bed and wonder where the day had gone. Suddenly, she was one day closer to having dinner with him. One day closer to being in his chambers, alone, intentionally, not under the excuse of playing her piano or ensuring his well-being.

Just a man and a woman who wanted to spend time together.

She was just going to try and ignore the fact that the man was her superior, her enigmatic professor, who had let no one close to him, possibly ever, who was just released from a lifetime of being a double agent. And she? She was a bookworm, a nerd, the best friend of the most famous seventeen-year-old in the wizarding world, who had already been branded a two-timing tart for her supposed treatment of Harry and Viktor. This really did have calamity written all over it, but if ever two people were willing to give it a chance, it would be them. Had they not overcome worse odds in the past?

Hermione kept replaying the year, from their first meeting to the present. How had it come to this? If one thing had been different – if she had been sick that first day in the bookstore, if she had confronted him in the hallway, if she had chosen different music, if he had never been injured – would they still have arrived at the same place?

Was Fate a force that would not be curtailed? Or did people direct it towards their heart's desires by their own actions?

Either way, she would not complain, for she was exactly where she wanted to be.

~~HGSS~~

"Inez!"

A little elf popped into existence. "Yes, Master?"

Professor Snape groaned. "Merlin, don't call me that. Professor is fine." He rather liked being called "Professor." "Please bring me the small pink vial on the second shelf in the lavatory."

The small house elf grabbed it quickly and brought it back to him.

"Thank you," he told her and tossed back the antacid potion.

Ever since he had asked Hermione to accompany him on Friday, he had had trouble keeping his stomach under control. It was not rare for him to have to adjust his diet in order to keep the heartburn and acid reflux down when under the thumb of Voldemort, but never had it come to him having to take a potion before he even got out of bed to avoid having to run to the commode and vomit last night's supper.

He would see her in class, her lovely, perfect face. Her corona of chestnut curls, her expressive, chocolate eyes.

And then his stomach would tighten, and he could feel the resurgence of his previous meal.

Severus had yet to decide if this was the best thing that could happen to him or the biggest mistake of his life. And he had made some awfully big mistakes.

But then he would remember her soft lips against his, the way she sat at his bedside, unabashedly holding his hand, or the way she would defend him against, well, anyone, and that was when his stomach would relax and give way to the butterflies which were always waiting in the wings.

This might be the first mistake he would enjoy making.

~~HGSS~~

Enduring Potions on Friday was the worst of them all. Hermione almost bit completely through her lip, and even the professor lost his train of thought a time or two. When Harry asked Hermione what the problem was, she tried to tell him she was nervous about Charms later, but she was pretty sure he didn't buy it.

When she begged off going to dinner, not saying she was going to eat with Severus, Lorrell finally spoke up.

"Alright, girl, what's up?"

Hermione fidgeted. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Lorrell motioned back inside the bedroom and shut the door behind them. "Who is he?"

"Who?"

"The guy who has you all hot and bothered. Hot date tonight?"

Dammit. She could wiggle out of most questions, but she wasn't going to lie when asked outright. It was

not like she was ashamed of where she was going or that it was against the rules. "Yes. But you can't tell anyone!"

"No problem," said Lorrell, becoming excited. "So? Who is it? Is it that McLaggen who has been eyeing you lately? Thomas?"

"Professor Snape."

Lorrell let out a bark of laughter. "Shut up. Okay, now seriously, who is it?"

"Seriously," said Hermione. "That's who it is. That's why I haven't told anyone but Ginny."

"Oh my good God. Please tell me you aren't wearing that."

Hermione looked down at her clothes. "What's wrong with them?"

"Honey…" Lorrell grabbed Hermione and promptly sat her down on the bed. She poked her head outside and called for Ginny. As soon as the other girl entered the room, they shut the door, and Lorrell explained the situation. Ginny immediately left for her own closet while Lorrell helped smooth Hermione's hair.

Hermione felt like it was the ball all over again.

Ginny returned with a few options for Hermione. Hermione was shorter than she was, so she had brought a few shirts and skirts. If Hermione wanted slacks, she'd be on her own. "I wasn't sure if I should grab a dress as well," said Ginny, warding the door against intruders and eavesdroppers.

"Nah, not with a date like this," said Lorrell. "She wants to look like she just happened to be extra gorgeous today, not that she was working for it. I'm thinking her slacks with the scoop button down or the peasant skirt with the blouse."

"The skirt makes her seem too Trelawney, too much fabric. The slacks are very 'colleague.'"

With a quick charm, Hermione was changed and a little bewildered.

"I like it," Lorrell declared. "Now with a little of this…and here…" She touched up Hermione's makeup. Just a little mascara, a light lip gloss, some highlighting eye shadow, and the girls declared her ready.

"When you get back, I need details," Ginny told her.

"Lots of details," Lorrell confirmed.

Nodding and slightly dazed, Hermione grabbed her ever-present satchel and left the warmth of Gryffindor tower for the quiet murk of the dungeons below.

Why did Hogwarts even have dungeons? That was one thing she could never find in Hogwarts, a History.

She paced a few times in front of his door before knocking. Was she really going to do this? Was this really about to happen? She pulled her robe a little tighter.

On the other side of the door, her professor was about to have his first full-fledged panic attack. He had never entertained a woman in his chambers. It wasn't that he was unwilling; it was that the opportunity had never presented itself. And now, possibly outside at this very moment, was a girl. A woman. Someone who wanted to spend time with him. Did he even know what to do?

He had been sitting at his desk and decided that that was too authoritative. He moved to the sofa but then felt as though that were too casual. He did not want her to think he was only after one thing.

He took to pacing the floor, ready to open the door when she called.

But what if she didn't come? What if, at the last moment, she realized she was about to spend the evening with her ugly, cantankerous professor. Her _teacher_. She probably wasn't going to come. He had been mistaken for even believing she would. How would he be able to face her on Monday, knowing he had been stood up?

She knocked on the frame of the portrait, the Count giving her a wary eye.

He rushed over, placing one hand against the door. He breathed deeply, composing himself, and then opened the door.

"Good evening, Hermione," he said in a surprisingly stable voice.

"Good evening, Severus," she answered with a slight hesitation. Calling him by his given name made her heartbeat pick up – just a little.

She set her bag on the floor and stood in the middle of his chambers. "Where should I…should I sit, or did you plan on dinner first?"

"I thought we could put in our request to the elves. They are fairly accommodating."

"So I've found," she said with a smile. "That'd be lovely."

While he made their requests, she took the opportunity to watch him, and her heart skipped a beat.

He had tied back his hair.

Did he even know what that did to her? The many nights she had laid in bed, trying to quiet her breathing as she frantically touched herself, wrapped in the quilt, picturing him above her, hair tied back and dark eyes shining?

Just thinking about it made her wet. This was not a good way to start off the evening.

Knowing he had put a little extra effort into his appearance made her glad she had sat through the girls' makeover before she left. The jacket he was wearing was one she had not seen before but was tailored nicely to him.

And how much could she consider this a date? Nothing had been specifically expressed, but it had all the makings of one. Eating dinner together, the wine chilling on the table next to two glasses, the cheeses and chocolates set out to nibble on. She assumed this was his way of saying he was interested her, at least a little. Did that mean she could be affectionate?

If she started to touch him, she might really start to have a problem. She'd let him set the tone then.

They sat on the sofa while waiting for their meal to arrive.

"That's a really impressive library," she told him.

He sat with his knees pointed toward her. "Yes, I've had a long time to accumulate it."

"Do you read many types of books?"

"Yes."

"Do you have favorites?" she asked.

"I do."

He was not helping.

"So why did you–"

Pop!

–_invite me here this evening_, her mind finished as she thanked the elf and moved to Severus' small dining area.

"Smells wonderful," she told him, taking in the scent of her French onion soup. "So how was your day?"

He looked up at her, and she was genuinely curious. "Alright, I suppose. The first years seem to be advancing better than the second years did last year. The seventh year students are still the same pains they've always been."

Hermione hid a smile. "I can only imagine. It must be difficult for you."

"At times," he conceded.

"I hear you even lost your train of thought today in class."

"Yes, well." He looked up at her. "I was distracted."

She shifted, feeling her cheeks grow warm. "Anything in particular?"

"Perhaps."

Their conversation was interrupted again by the arrival of their main course.

"Do you always eat so well in your quarters?" she asked.

"Not usually. I rarely eat when here. I'm usually busy with other things. Now, however, I have suddenly found myself with more free time," he said wryly.

"Nothing you want to do to fill it?"

"Nothing but destroy the bastard who gave it to me," he said, cutting into his steak with a bit more force than strictly needed. "And yourself?"

"I beg your pardon?" she inquired, looking up from her baked chicken.

"How was your day?"

"Oh. Long. It seemed really long. Sometimes I wish I had the Time Turner back for a few extra hours in the day. But now that it's getting closer to N.E.W.T.s, I'll have some extra time."

He looked up from his plate. "How do you figure?"

"Well, I'll have to work on revision, but there won't be much new material coming in. Few actual assignments and more just studying, which has no timeline."

"Mmm," he said, somehow sounding thoughtful, and they resumed eating.

After the meal was cleared, she wandered up to his bookshelf again, admiring the varied novels.

"I think the house elf mentioned something about cake, but you're welcome to peruse a novel while we wait."

She nodded at him and selected an old, dusty book on magic in nature. Coming back to the sofa, she sat close to him and cracked it open.

He was surprised at how easy it was to keep her interest.

Picking up his book-in-progress from the end table, Professor Snape flipped it open and tried to casually drape his arm over the back of the sofa, and thus around her shoulders.

Hermione smiled a little to herself and, taking pity on him, moved a little closer.

After about ten minutes had passed – in which Hermione almost completely forgot about the arm moving tighter around her and got totally lost in her book – a plate with two pieces of chocolate cake appeared on the table.

"Ohh, lovely," said Hermione and took the plate and one of the forks. "Um, there's only one plate. Share with me?"

Snape gulped, "Alright," and picked up the other fork from the table.

Holding it between them, they both enjoyed the rich confection. Every forkful that headed to Hermione's mouth was followed by his eyes. Her pink tongue would dart out and give the fork the littlest lick as it reached her lips, and her lips would pucker around the fork.

Hermione noticed him watching her and with her last bite, shyly looked up at him from under her lashes while licking the forkful.

He couldn't stand it anymore and quickly set the plate on the table, where it disappeared. Snape placed a hand on her face as he dipped his head closer.

"We probably shouldn't be doing this," he whispered in her ear.

"Probably," she told him as his lips captured hers.

She closed her eyes to let her body take over for her brain. His arms snaked around her and pulled her so close to his chest she could barely breathe. Her hands stroked his face as he lightly kissed each drop of chocolate off her lips.

He stopped kissing her, and after a moment, she opened her eyes to find him looking at her, still holding her close.

He started to release her, apologizing, when she took hold of the situation. "No! Don't," she said.

He looked at her questioningly and then slowly pulled her close again. She rested her head against his shoulder and put her arms around him as he held her.

"Is this okay?" she heard him ask.

"Yes," she told him. Hermione listened to his heartbeat, the quick but reassuring _thumpthump thumpthump_.

"Why did you ask me here tonight?" she whispered.

He pulled back, and she mourned the lost feel of him. "I…well…I thought I made my intentions clear," he hedged.

"You just said dinner and research. Is kissing part of the research, Severus?"

His groin ached every time she said his name. And the feel of her arms around him, the skin of her lips on his…he was in for a long, cold shower this evening.

Or a long, pleasurable evening with his fantasies.

"It...might be. If you don't object."

"I don't object," she said. "I rather like spending time with you."

"I enjoy your company as well," he told her.

"I should hope so," she said with a laugh. "I'm assuming you don't make a habit of snogging students?"

He scoffed. "I don't make it a habit of snogging anyone. And never a student."

"I imagine it would be difficult to hold down a relationship."

"Being an unattractive, antisocial, bitter bore isn't exactly conducive."

"I don't think you're a bore. Or unattractive. And I was referring more to Voldemort and being a professor. I've noticed they're all single." She said the Dark Lord's name with more confidence than the last time she was in his presence. Hermione looked at him seriously now and took one of his hands. If he flinched a little at her unexpected touch, she decided not to notice. She would just keep doing it until it wasn't strange anymore.

"What happened that night?"

"Which night?" he asked.

"The night you were attacked. There is more than you're letting on."

"And how would you know?" he said self-assuredly.

"Because I know. Straight answers, remember? So?"

He sighed. She would find out anyway. Might as well be now.

"On New Year's Eve, when I was unexpectedly summoned to Voldemort, I was…distracted by the evening's events. As you recall, they had taken a turn I don't think either of us were expecting. When Voldemort looked into my mind to assess my loyalty, as he frequently does, he saw us. He saw what happened."

Hermione looked horrified. "Voldemort saw that? He saw me in your mind?"

"He did. Witnessing an intimate encounter between a Muggle-born friend of Harry Potter and myself gave him enough of a motive to more thoroughly search my thoughts. And as I had not placed a more effective barrier, he was able to see things that would otherwise have been blocked from him. Apparently, one such memory was my protection of the Burrow over a few days of the Christmas holidays. My guess is that three lackeys heard of his displeasure and decided to take out the traitor in order to earn favor with the Dark Lord. I imagine their failure did not serve them well."

"When were you ever at the Burrow?" asked Hermione.

"When Mister Potter was there, it was deemed necessary that they should have heightened security, higher than normal even. I had heard mention of a show of power over the holidays when I was at a meeting. Voldemort thought it would be terribly amusing to attack at Christmas, ruining the Muggle holiday, even more than usual. It was planned that there would be a burning to ruin the newly restored home, while hopefully killing a few of the occupants instead of just inciting fear. I offered to take a few of the shifts of extra coverage while I was available."

"Why?" Hermione asked him sharply. "Still protecting the son of Lily Potter?"

"No," he told her slowly. "I was protecting friends of _you_. Must everything come back to my past?"

"Well, what do you expect? I'm trying, but this is all terribly new, and everything I know about you so far leads back to her. You're not exactly forthcoming. "

"Not everything," he said, "but she was a driving force in my life for a long time. She was the one good thing that had happened to me. What was I supposed to do?"

"Oh, I don't know, find better things?" said Hermione testily. "She doesn't even seem like someone I would want to be friends with, let alone center my life around."

He narrowed his eyes at her, pulling away from her on the sofa. "I had nothing else. There was no one. Without her, I would still be a faithful Death Eater."

"You mean without her death, you would still be a faithful Death Eater," said Hermione, becoming angrier by the minute. How dare he think that he was not a good enough person to come back to the side of the Light on his own, had she survived?

"You know nothing of the situation. Nothing!" he yelled at her. "When this happened, you were just a stupid, ignorant child, and it seems possible nothing has changed."

Shit. As soon as the words left his mouth, he knew it was the wrong thing to say. Not to mention the fact that it was not something he even believed was true. He was just letting his temper get away from him. Hermione was probably born spouting theories on conception and birth. She was never stupid, and the ignorance was not her fault. She had more than made up for her lack of wizarding knowledge as a child.

What would happen now? His chest constricted, and he felt wild with panic. Would she leave him now? Would she be like Lily? Merlin knew he deserved it. But no, he didn't want her to go. More than anything he had ever wanted before, he wanted her to stay. He prayed she would be the exception to the rule.

Hermione's eyes grew wide, and her jaw set. She was _angry_. "Do you mean that?" she spat, suddenly standing with her arms crossed in front of her.

He felt tears – real, honest-to-Nimue tears – beginning to form in the corners of his eyes as he looked at the angry little witch in front of him, about to walk out of his life, but he knew he would not cry. He had lied. Lily was not the one good thing that had happened to him. Merely the first.

"No," he whispered, shaking his head for emphasis.

Hermione cut through her anger to look at him, really look at him. He had not run away, but he looked ready to bolt at any moment. His face held no trace of his previous anger, only anguish and remorse.

She realized he was tense and breathing heavily, waiting for her to reject him.

She sighed, releasing her anger, and closed her eyes for a moment. Opening them, she spread her arms wide. "Come here."

His tension broke with an almost audible crack as he rushed over to her, not believing his good fortune. Thinking that there might be something to prayer, he buried his lightly tear-streaked face in her fragrant curls as she held him tight.

She stood there holding him for she didn't know how long. It was almost eerie because he made no sound. Hermione could barely even hear him breathe. She remembered when he had held her on her father's birthday, and she hoped he was receiving the same comfort now.

After he seemed to relax a little, she sat them on the couch and still held him close to her. He laid his head against her shoulder, and she cradled him with one arm, while running her hand through his long hair with the other. Over and over again she traced through his hair and watched as the inky black made rivers over the pale white of her skin, feeling the silk as it threaded through her fingers.

"You're not going to be rid of me that easily. You know that, right?" she whispered to him. In response, he just squeezed her tighter.

"In fact, you're pretty much stuck with me, I think. I can be like a Hufflepuff. Why do you think I still even talk to most of my friends? You're a good man, Severus. If you haven't heard that enough, I'll just keep telling you."

"Thank you," he told her as he finally sat back a little, touching her hair, seeming amazed by the slightly coarse brown curls as they sprang back when released by his fingers.

They sat together for another half hour, making small talk. She turned around and leaned against him, head nestled below his, with his arms wrapped around her and her hands over his. Every now and then she would close her eyes and just breathe, trying to memorize that unique scent that was all him. Herbs and parchment and just a touch of something else. Was it sandalwood or cologne? Whatever it was, it was irresistible to her.

He tried to keep the conversation light, not wanting to push his luck. Right here, on this sofa, one of his dreams was coming true, and he was terrified of bollixing it up.

After her third large yawn, she told him she had probably better get going. She was shocked to see the clock registered that almost five hours had passed and it was now nearing midnight. It was good she was Head Girl and that no one would question her being out this late.

He walked her to the door, fairly certain that was what one did after a date, for as the night had progressed, he became more and more sure that that was what the night was.

"I had a good time tonight," she told him.

"As did I."

"Perhaps we could repeat it sometime? We never really got to that research…"

"I think that might be feasible. Which reminds me, our goals seems to be in agreement when it comes to Voldemort, and we have previously shown synergy. Would you be interested in working with me in my lab to find a viable solution to our problem?"

Hermione answered readily, "I'd love to! I'd love to watch you work. I'll compile a list of theories and ideas, and we can try them. Just use your Galleon and let me know when you have free time, or we can set up an appointment the next time you see me."

He nodded that he would.

"Well, thank you for having me. I'll see you Monday."

He nodded again to her, not really sure what she considered proper etiquette for this sort of thing. Should he kiss her? He had once already tonight that had seemed to go alright, but he wasn't sure how she was feeling towards him in that regard after his outburst. Perhaps he should just wait until–

"Severus?" she said, interrupting his train of thought.

"Yes?"

She stepped up on her tiptoes and pulled him down to her by grabbing the front of his jacket. She kissed him soundly, and he felt any lingering doubts melt.

"Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Hermione."

She left him then and bid goodnight to the Count.

"Goodnight, maiden," he told her with a gleam of mischief.

She gave him a funny look and walked up to her tower like she had been struck with Mobilicorpus.

His kisses had been brilliant and had her curling her toes just in remembrance. She had a clearer picture of his body beneath his robes now, and she could just imagine what he looked like without the fabric. In fact, she allotted quite a bit of her mental prowess to that particular endeavor. She almost groaned, by herself in the hallway, picturing him standing before her with not a stitch of clothing on.

Rushing to the portrait of the Fat Lady so that she could escape to her room and take care of her problem – hoping the other girls were already asleep – she was not prepared for what assaulted her when she entered the common room.

"I can't believe you, Hermione–"

"Ginny got a–"

"Look here, Hermione–"

"…can't believe you missed it…"

"…and with telling any of us…"

"No one knew where–"

"Alright," Hermione interrupted, a bit crestfallen that so many people were still awake, "I can't understand any of you with everyone talking at once. What's going on?"

They all began talking together again – Ron, Lorrell, Ginny, and Harry.

Ron won out. "You were on a date with Snape, Hermione?"

Hermione looked at the girls. Ginny shook her head, and Lorrell looked abashed.

"Sorry," Lorrell told her. "I couldn't just tell him no when he asked! He was just so cute…and ginger."

Hermione closed her eyes and counted to ten. "Yes, I was. And it went wonderfully, and if any of you desire to keep my friendship, you won't say a single negative word about it. Got that?" She leveled a glare worthy of the man in question at each of her friends. Three of them raised their hands in surrender. "Ronald?" she asked in her Icy Mother Voice.

Ron stood in silence, contemplating his options. "Fine. I'm not going to be happy about it though, so don't expect me to be!"

"I'm not expecting you to be anything but silent," Hermione told him. "So yes, we sort of had a date, I suppose. He invited me to dinner, we talked. He was a perfect gentleman. For him." Okay, so perhaps that wasn't entirely true, or the entire night, but that was all they were getting out of her.

"Did he kiss you again?" Ginny asked.

"I'm not telling," said Hermione with a cheeky grin.

"Did you kiss him?" asked Lorrell.

"I'm not telling that either," said Hermione, with an even cheekier grin.

"This is so exciting!" said Ginny.

"I think I'm going to be sick," said Ron under his breath. "I'm going to bed."

They all bid Ron a good night, and Lorrell followed him to the stairs. They all looked away so as not to watch her giving him a special farewell for the evening.

"Please, just don't snog in front of us," Harry pleaded to Hermione.

"What, like the rest of you do?" Hermione countered. "But honestly, it was one night, it wasn't even mentioned that it was a date. And it's me and Professor Snape. I don't think you have anything to worry about if even Ron couldn't get me to be lascivious in the halls."

"And thank God for that," said Harry.

"So, what was going on with you, Ginny?"

Ginny jumped up and down a little with excitement. "Harry gave me a promise ring!"

"Another ring?" Hermione asked. "But I thought you just gave her one."

Ginny rolled her eyes at Hermione. "You are obviously not a girl. That was just a ring as a gift, this is an actual promise ring."

"And the difference?"

"It means that it'll be an engagement ring as soon as it can be," said Harry.

Hermione's face registered a bit of shock. "But, but I thought you two were arguing!"

"Well, we were," said Ginny.

"And now we're not," said Harry. "Talking with Ginny about some of my problems made me realize how much I want to be with her. I want her to be my family, and I want to be hers. I know we have a while to wait, but I want everyone to be sure that I'm finally confident about something for once."

A smile lit Hermione's face. "I'm glad for you both then. Congratulations."

Ginny babbled on for a while about ideas she was already having for a wedding she couldn't plan.

Hermione tuned her out and noticed that Lorrell had already gone to bed. After a few more minutes of strategically nodding to Ginny, Hermione bid her goodnight, and Harry as well, and went up to bed.

She smiled as she looked up at the canopy of her bed.

She didn't notice that she had forgotten her satchel since she skipped most of her nightly rituals. Hermione had already said goodnight to her someone.

**Teaser: Yea, I don't have my netbook here. But next week: The reveal of the white king and a special message from the chess set.**


	25. Chapter 24

**A/N **I'm taking time out of packing to upload this. Aren't I nice? : ) Please check and make sure you didn't miss the little bonus chapter or chapter 23.

Oh, and I strongly encourage you to at least listen to songs three and four in this play list when they come up.

**Playlist**: http:/ /www .you tube .com/watch?v=XVjEZcnIums&feature=PlayList&p=C1BCA8E5ACF4695E&index=0&playnext=1

**Chapter Twenty-Four**

Hermione sat in the stuffy, incense-scented room and counted backward from one thousand. She could think of so many places she would rather be than here. Her chambers, _his_ chambers, St. Mungo's…

However, she had told Minerva she would shadow each staff member of Hogwarts, and thus, she found herself in her most hated of classrooms.

"Look closely into the ball, dears. Close, yes, even closer. Inside you shall find the answer to life's mysteries!" Sybil Trelawney told her class.

Hermione did her best not to scoff at her future colleague. It was bad enough that Trelawney remembered exactly why Hermione was no longer in her class.

"Ah, yes, come to attempt to develop your inner eye?" she had asked Hermione when she had first entered the classroom.

"I am here to watch you attempt to teach others to open theirs. My eyes are just fine, thank you," Hermione had answered and found a quiet and secluded puff to sit on while she watched the classes.

She had vowed to herself that she would make the best of each opportunity offered to her, and she did want to learn from the Divination instructor if there was something for her to glean. Since she had missed much of this class, she went through each class as a student would and performed each of the assignments as they did.

"Deep, deep into the crystal ball. Let it speak to your mind! Dark things lay ahead, dark indeed. What will it tell each of you? Come now, don't be shy. You, Sterling, what do you see?"

The sixth year Hufflepuff who looked like he could be Crabbe's younger brother squinted into the orb in front of him. "Uh, well," he started slowly. "I see myself, and, um, I'm throwing something. They look like dice. Twenty-sided ones maybe. They keep coming up as ones, over and over again."

"Oh, dear," said Trelawney, clucking her tongue. "Soon you shall see how unfortunate it can be to roll snake eyes. And you, Mr. Zahrt, I see you seem to be pondering the wonders of the crystal ball. What has it deigned to tell you of your future?"

The burly student looked confused. "I think…I think it's telling me I'm going to have a blue ball. Oh, wait." He reached behind his orb and removed the blue-colored Divination book from behind it. "Okay, close call there. I see myself. And that American, Lorrell. And, I think that's a house-elf. We're…singing. And dancing." The gregarious student took off his glasses, wiped his eyes, and put them back on. "Yup, definitely dancing. Maybe it's broken." He looked at his table partner. "Nate, did you touch my ball?"

"No way, man. I don't touch other people's balls," said the student addressed previously as Sterling.

Hermione rolled her eyes at the pair while Trelawney gave her interpretation. It was like watching Ron and Harry. She was so pleased she had dropped this course.

"And you, Miss Granger, care to tell the class what it is you see in your ball if you have not practiced the noble art of Seeing?"

With a groan, Hermione peered into the slightly dusty glass ball. "You see a table cloth," she told the other woman. "An _ugly_ table cloth."

She looked into the ball closer, attempting to see if the pattern on the table really was cats made of paisley when, suddenly, a vision slowly appeared as though coming through the fog. She squinted and looked harder, until all she could focus on was the hazy picture.

She could see legs and arms, apparently of two people. They were…naked…and doing what it was a naked man and woman do best. Cheeks reddening at the invasion of privacy for the poor couple, Hermione nonetheless looked closer to see if she could spot an identity. It was difficult with the way the woman was tossing back her head and the man was thrusting into her. After a moment, she caught a glimpse of curled brown hair. This woman must be herself!

If the man had red hair or glasses, she was going to be sick.

Morbid curiosity driving her, she looked back again.

The naked man had shoulder-length black hair.

Gasping, her crazed mind wondered if it was possible to keep the ball for further perusal. But no, it must have just been her own fantasy and the richly perfumed haze of the room that had finally gotten to her and conjured that hallucination. It couldn't really be the future.

Could it?

Suddenly, the room was too warm. "I'm sorry," she said hastily. "I need to go." Hermione stood up quickly, knocking the ball to the floor. It rolled under Sterling's table as she made her exit. "I'm sorry, Sybil. I'll come back if I need anything." Hermione half ran down the spiraling staircase, once again running from the classroom with a crystal ball on the floor behind her.

Sequestering herself in her corner of the library, she brought out her Charms notes for the previous years. She was fairly certain she would be able to pass her N.E.W.T.s just fine, but that didn't stop her from worrying, and, in a time like this, she needed something banal to keep her mind off the image she had seen in the orb.

She took out her planner as well and ran a highlighter over "Charms – 1st year." She had a box for each subject she was taking in her tests and all the years for them. She would check them off one by one as she studied them, and she knew how many she had to accomplish each week to keep on track.

Knowing it wouldn't be long – or perhaps it would, but it would happen eventually either way – before the boys came to ask her to assist in their studies as well, she took the available time to reread as much as she could on her own without any distractions.

And besides, some of that time would be unavailable anyway, since she would be researching with Severus.

He was such a different man now in her mind. So much more human, in body and in personality. Hermione bit her bottom lip as she remembered their kisses in his chambers. She closed her eyes, remembering his smell and the texture of his robes and the feel of his hand against her back, pulling her closer, and...

Whoa, girl. You're in a library. In public. Charms. Yes. Focus on Charms.

She lowered her head back to her book, vowing to store that image for later use, as well as the one from Divination.

Hermione poured over each page of painstakingly-taken notes in her tiny, first year student scrawl. Everything was as she remembered it, though she made a few notes in a separate book on a few obscure Charms to look into later.

Sometimes, it felt like this was all just such a waste. She knew that she knew more than any one person in her grade, and if others could pass, she could too. Studying occupied such a huge portion of her time. What would she have done if she had invested that time elsewhere?

This day was just so frustrating. She shut the book, finished with that year, and went to leave the library in search of her friends. Maybe they'd want to play Gobstones or trade Chocolate Frog cards or something.

She was walking through the tall double doors when she felt the warmth in her pocket. Switching her bag from one shoulder to the other, she reached in to read the message.

_Research tonight_?

Oh, thank the gods. It had been ten days since their date-like-thing, not that she was counting, of course, and she had played for him once in that time, and that was all.

The last time she had seen him privately, when she had played for him, still left her a little disconcerted. She had greeted him with a kiss, and he had told her goodbye with one. Both of them had curled her toes and left her wanting more. Each singular kiss felt like another confirmation that they both wanted more, even though nothing had been discussed between them. Each one was a token to be taken and saved.

And still, even after feeling his lips against hers and seeing the want reflected in his eyes, she couldn't imagine this was real. All too soon, she was going to wake up from this lovely dream. Severus Snape did not kiss students. Or anyone, for that matter. And Hermione Granger did not kiss professors!

Yet here they were. Somewhere, the ground in Hell was freezing below the hooves of the airborne swine.

Was this such a good idea? Dating Severus? Is that what she was about to do? Date him?

But she had Minerva's consent, who was about as close as she could get to a mum. The boys were quiet, if not exactly accepting and the girls were thrilled for her. It was true they may hear some backlash from parents but they were both very discreet and, well. She didn't want to let him go.

Which was really all it came down to. She didn't want to let him go. She was happy when she was with him, and she if could be an instrument to his happiness then what else was there?

_Where & when_?

After a moment, she received a response.

_After dinner, my lab._

The day was suddenly brighter. Did he know how much he made her happy? She hoped so.

With a little more spring in her step, she went in search of a way to pass the time for a few hours.

~~HGSS~~

"Fiddlesticks!"

Snape snorted. "Fiddlesticks?"

"Shut up. It's a Muggle expression. I'm just so frustrated!" said Hermione as her fourth cauldron of the night began to smoke and gurgle.

Having previously worked alone, Snape found he rather liked working with Hermione. She was knowledgeable, capable, and he could still learn interesting new phrases that he no longer gleaned from Voldemort.

"I've added the monkshood, the belladonna, and the wartcap. I stirred three times, and this. What does it want from me? What do you want, Cauldron?" Hermione said shrilly at the ruined potion in front of her.

"Perhaps," he said, concerned, "if you cannot handle this, we can find something else for you to –"

"No," she interrupted. "I can do this just fine. It's just…" She sighed. "It's been a long day. I'm already feeling like I'm spinning my wheels in so many places. With studying, with the boys, and now with the research, I'm just not in the right frame of mind. Do you mind if I go and play for a half hour and then return to continue?"

"By all means. Use my study if you wish," he told her, gesturing towards the door to his rooms from the other side of the table.

"Thanks," she said with a meek smile and headed towards the door.

She really felt like she was overreacting, but having four cauldrons end up in the same mess was just exasperating. She was able to stave off the reaction a little more each time, with the exception of cauldron three, which had gone drastically, horribly wrong. Hermione hoped the smell would come out of Snape's cloak, which he had hung on a hook a little too close to her workstation.

She had so many ideas, and Hermione was pleased that he listened to all of them. Some he pushed aside with explanations for their implausibility, but others he agreed were worth a try, and those she marked in her notebook for further study.

He had a few ideas of his own that he had yet to try, and hearing her thoughts helped him bring his own into focus. He was also able to add a few refinements to some of the experiments they wanted to try in the future.

Currently, they were focusing on limiting Voldemort's power or increasing Harry's. Somehow, they needed to be on more equal footing, whether that meant Voldemort was inhibited or Harry became more like the nemesis he feared.

Hermione walked through the door that led to Severus' rooms. Pausing in the middle of the room, she looked around and smiled at the things in the room that were so obviously him. All the books. Sparse, comfortable furniture. A soft, dark rug beneath the sofa, a small table for a decanter and a few glasses in one corner, and a chess set with a game in progress.

Speaking of chess sets, she made a mental note to ask him if she had left hers here or if the entire thing had decided that they didn't want to be with her anymore.

With a small grunt, she pushed one heavy chair out of the way so that her piano would have the space it needed. Once enlarged, it took up a good portion of the free area in the room.

Not in the mood to sing, she took out a few piano favorites that never failed to calm her. (1) Soon, the simple, sweet melodies poured from the piano, and even the Count sat on the inside of the room and listened to her play with his head resting on one pale hand.

Alone she played, rolling her head to ease the tension in her neck and shoulders and letting her mind wander to what she needed to accomplish in the coming weeks. Graduation was looming, and soon, she would be the newest professor there.

And what of Voldemort? Not a year had passed without a conflict at the conclusion of the school year. Perhaps this would be the last. Hermione was unsure whether she was pleased or terrified. She opted for a little of each.

She was finishing a song when she heard the door behind her open and close and someone come in, taking a seat.

"I've heard this?" he asked her.

"You have. 'Her Most Beautiful Smile,'" she said. "You know this one too." (2)

She began to play what could possibly be called his favorite song. "Sound of Your Voice" was not only about himself, but it reminded him of the first time he had felt accepted by her.

"Why do you play these over again?" he questioned.

"Well, multiple reasons, I suppose. One, I'm not an endless fount of music, regardless of what I may have led you to believe," she told him, smiling. "So sometimes, things need to be revisited. Two, I like them. Why do you eat the same foods over again or wear the same woolen socks? Some things are worth doing or having again, and some get better the more you have them. Like fine wine or good friends. Age and repetition are only improvements. And third, songs like these specifically are my musical comfort food."

"Comfort food?" he asked, intrigued.

She nodded. "Sometimes it's the simple, nothing fancy things that make you the happiest. And with these pieces, they are easy enough for me to memorize, and I can then keep my hands busy and allow my mind to focus on something else. Sometimes I find it hard to concentrate my mind when my body is doing nothing. I get restless. So these are the familiar, comforting songs that, in a way, remind me of my mum's macaroni and cheese or mince pies, you know?"

"In theory. My mother didn't cook much."

"Oh, I see. Well, the tea sandwiches you are so fond of then."

"I see your point," he said.

She finished the song as she watched him. He grew a little tense, almost nervous, glancing around the room, before quickly standing and striding over to his desk. She turned to watch him inquiringly as he unlocked a small drawer and removed something.

As he walked back over to her, she saw what he had in his hands.

"I believe you forgot something," Snape told her.

"My chess set! Did I leave it here then?"

"You did," he told her, fidgeting with the box. "Hermione, I have something I wish to discuss with you. But first, I have something I wish for you to see, and your reaction determines a great deal of the conversation."

Her curiosity was thoroughly enraptured. If you ever wanted to snare a Kia, a lead-in like that one was the way to do it.

"Alright then, what is it?"

He set the chess set on the piano and opened it. Laying the board flat, the pieces took up their regulation spots. With a little prodding from Snape, five pieces moved forward: a white rook, a white pawn, a black pawn, a black bishop, and the infamous black knight.

Reaching into his pocket, Snape set one more thing on the board.

"My king!" exclaimed Hermione.

"Patience," Professor Snape told her. "All will be explained." He gave the white king a little nudge with his finger. The white king cleared his throat, snapped his little stone fingers four times, and the group began to sing. (3)

"'In every heart there is a room, a sanctuary, safe and strong, to heal the wounds from lovers past until a new one comes along.'"

Hermione bit her lower lip in an attempt to keep from asking whether this song was for her. "'I spoke to you in cautious tones. You answered me with no pretense, and still I feel I said too much. My silence is my self defense. And every time I've held a rose, it seems I only felt the thorns. And so it goes, and so it goes, and so will you soon I suppose.'"

Hermione just shook her head, looking up at her Severus, who had his head tilted away from her, his eyes tightly closed. This time, she thought, when he held his Gentle Hermione, there would be no thorns. "'But if my silence made you leave, then that would be my worst mistake. So I will share this room with you, and you can have this heart to break.'"

Silly, stupid Slytherin. If she had anything to say about it, she wasn't going anywhere."'And this is why my eyes are closed, it's just as well for all I've seen,'" sang the little pieces as Hermione felt the first tear roll down her smooth cheek. "'And so it goes, and so it goes, and you're the only one who knows. So I would choose to be with you, that's if the choice were mine to make. But you can make decisions too, and you can have this heart to break. And so it goes, and so it goes, and you're the only one who knows.'"

Hermione felt her wet eyelashes on her cheek, completely overcome by the display of his heart. She was quietly gasping, trying not to cry fully, as she asked him, "Is this what you wanted to talk to me about?"

He simply nodded at her without turning his head. Severus Snape was no Gryffindor. He hated the word with a vengeance, but at times, he was a coward.

"Oh, Severus…" she whispered.

He closed his eyes tighter, wishing he could close his ears as well, not wanting to hear her rejection, as nicely worded as it would be, with phrases like 'just friends' and 'it's not you.'

He felt something warm in his hand and looked down.

Her hand was in his.

"I thought you'd never ask," she told him, cheeks still glistening.

The chess set was watching everything unfold with apprehension, black and white queens holding each other with trepidation, and the king didn't know what to do with him self so he just wrung his hands.

Snape looked down to her, this petite, seventeen-year-old student, and for once, let his body rule over his brain. (4)

The chess set, taking his physical cue, struck up a new song, and the swelling strains of Tchaikovsky's "Romeo and Juliet" filled the air.

With the trumpet countermelody and the crescendo of the violins, this kiss, exactly two months after the original, felt like the first time. They both felt free to put their emotions behind it, letting themselves go, knowing they would be accepted and their affection returned. Gone was the timid nature and hesitation that had marked their first few attempts at gentle intimacy.

He was unprepared when she opened her mouth to him. Feeling his insecurity, she pulled back and rubbed her nose to his with a grin, effectively easing the tension a bit. Hermione then led him with gentle, open-mouthed kisses, touching her tongue to his, feeling and tasting him simultaneously.

She was suddenly glad she had brushed her teeth that morning.

Snape was at a loss as to what to do with himself. Feeling the need to do _something_, his ran his hands up and down her back, bending down to reach her.

Noticing his plight, she led him to the sofa as he scolded the playing chess set with, "Oh, do shut up." She sat on her knees next to him and leaned over to kiss him thoroughly.

He didn't know what reaction he had been hoping for, but this was infinitely better than anything he had anticipated.

And she tasted divine.

Was this what the little prats were fumbling for in the hallways? These few moments of physical bliss?

He was still going to punish their lack of decorum ruthlessly, but he understood where they were coming from now.

Hermione was oblivious to his thoughts as she ran her hands up his chest. Finding the cravat tied there, she nimbly unfastened it and began to work on a few of his upper jacket buttons.

He pulled back away from her, panting slightly. "Hermione?"

"Hmm?" she answered, completely engrossed in ridding him of the overbearing jacket which prevented her from seeing the delicious white shirt underneath.

"We can't do this. I can't do this."

"Yes, you can. You'll learn. I know you are attracted to me, and I'm attracted to you. We care about each other. It's okay. Just relax."

Her words eased him somewhat, but he became concerned about one fact. "How do you know I'm attracted to you?"

She rubbed the white shirt that was freed from the top few buttons and told him, "You have a big nose."

"So I am like Pinocchio?" he asked, somewhat annoyed.

"No. Your nostrils swell and flare when you are aroused."

He released a breath. "I just want you to know that I don't think I'd be comfortable…consummating this relationship for some time. At least until you are no longer under my authority. This is not an arena in which I'm very…knowledgeable."

She barely managed to not chuckle or snort. Barely. Merlin, he was being so _sincere_. "That's not a problem. I dated Ron for six months, and never 'consummated' anything. I don't mind taking things slow, and we'll just see what happens. Is kissing off the menu too?"

"Definitely not."

"Then hush, and take off this ridiculous jacket."

He complied and kissed her soundly again before telling her, "There are a few things we should probably consider before we get too carried away."

"Probably," Hermione said, annoyed, as she sat back on her feet.

"Do you want to talk to Minerva, or shall I?"

"Oh, she doesn't care," said Hermione.

"She doesn't? How would you know this?" he asked, surprised.

"She told me," Hermione said. "Right after New Year's. She said she didn't care, and she'd tell you that, but you'd just do what you wanted to anyway. She just said to keep it discreet, of course, and that she trusts us both."

"Hmpf. She's as bad as Dumbledore. She must have gotten impatient then. She spoke to me as well a few weeks ago. Well, that's a major problem cleared then. Are you planning on telling your friends?" he asked with a bit of a sneer.

"Only those I can trust. I'll extract a wand oath if necessary. I don't want to create unneeded problems for either of us. I won't force you two together, but can you be nice to Harry if needed?"

"We'll see," he said, without as much malice as she had expected. "I'm sure you know I don't take something like this lightly. I haven't…dated…in the past. There hasn't been anyone who has been willing to accept the reality of me, and I've been too occupied to be concerned with it. I don't know what will happen now, but I hope you know I won't let go lightly."

"Good. I don't plan on making you try. And now, the important question."

"Which is?" he asked.

"Why do you have my king?"

He sat up straight now, pulling one leg onto the cushion in front of him. "Well, you see, about three-and-a-half months ago…"

He told her the story about how the king had become attached to him as she listened intently.

"And why didn't you tell me about it?"

"I didn't think he'd be so persistent," he said as the king preened on the chess board behind him. "And after a while, he became not such a nuisance. You weren't concerned, so I left him to figure out what it was he wanted."

"And what did he want?"

"You, at first," he said, making Hermione laugh. After she apologized to the affronted king, he continued. "And then us. He was quite insistent."

"Well, thank you, King. I appreciate your efforts," Hermione told the piece and gave it a little pat. Leaning down, she whispered to him, "You know, the black queen has been watching you."

The little king pointed to himself with his eyebrows raised.

"Yes, you. Maybe you should go say hi."

Puffing up his chest, the king turned around and strode over to the black queen, who waved shyly as he came over.

With an impish smile, she turned back towards Snape. "Thank you too. For all of this. For the song, for taking a chance by talking to me. See? Good things can happen if you're a little bit Gryffindor."

"Hmm, yes, well, I think I've seen too little of these 'good things.'"

So she kissed him again.

~~HGSS~~

Hermione went back to the tower as if in a dream. She was thankful the other girls were asleep and she wouldn't be teased and questioned about the late hour and her kiss-swollen lips.

She was in a relationship with her professor. What would her mother say?

There was time for that thought later. Now it was time for sleep.

~~HGSS~~

In the morning, Hermione found quite a scene in the common room. Lorrell was crying with Ron's arms around her, and Harry and Ginny were nearby, trying to console the girl.

"Good morning," said Hermione slowly. "How is everyone?"

Ginny rapidly shook her head and gestured surreptitiously to Lorrell.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't be out here with this. I'll just go back to my room and freshen up, and then we can head to class," Lorrell said in between sniffles.

"No, it's all right," said Harry. "We've been through lots of things together. What's the problem?"

"It's my mom," said Lorrell. "She wants me home."

"At the end of the year?" asked Hermione.

"Yeah, she said she'll wait until then, but she really wants me home now. I guess my sister has been bugging her about coming over here to visit, and she is only sixteen. She's a witch, but my mom is a Muggle, or maybe a Squib, I don't know. My dad isn't magical, that's for sure. But my mom is afraid of leaving and coming into an all-magical world, and she doesn't want to lose me, and now she just wants me home, and it's like she wants to forget this year ever happened!"

"Oh, Lorrell, I'm sure it will work itself out," said Ginny.

"And if you have to go to the States, it's no big deal. I'm seventeen, I can Apparate, yeah? And you're welcome to visit whenever you like," said Ron. "You won't lose me over this."

Lorrell looked at him, slightly relieved. "Thanks, Red. I'm glad to hear that."

"Love you, Sunshine."

"Love you, too," she answered, and soon the couple was making a display the rest did not want to see.

Walking away with Ginny and Harry, Hermione inquired, "Sunshine?"

"I think it's the hair," Ginny explained.

"They seem to have a thing for each other's hair," said Harry.

Hermione shook her head and added that to the list of things that made her and Ron incompatible.

She thought about the events of last night and decided it was a good thing neither of them had a hair fetish.

"So?" said Ginny.

Hermione felt her stomach drop. Mentally calculating how long they had before class started, she pulled them into an alcove and cast Muffliato.

"What I have to tell you is to be kept strictly between us. I may or may not even tell Ron. Do I need a wand oath from you two?"

Ginny and Harry looked at each other and then back at Hermione. Whatever it was, if it was this important, they weren't going to betray her confidence.

"No," said Ginny.

"You can trust us," said Harry.

"We're together," Hermione blurted.

If it hadn't been such a highly sensitive issue, Hermione would have been amused at seeing their equally flabbergasted faces.

"Together, like, _together_ together?" Harry asked over Ginny's exclamation of "Did you sleep with him?"

"Ginny!" Hermione admonished. "Yes, Harry. Together, like together together. McGonagall already gave her consent, and I'm sure you can understand why we aren't broadcasting it. We're just going to give things a try, so it's not like you need to start making wedding plans, Ginevra Weasley. I can see those wheels turning."

Ginny had the maturity to at least look slightly abashed.

"So what happened? How did he ask you? Did he ask, or did you ask him? Do you call him your boyfriend? Because that would just be weird," rambled Ginny.

Harry looked a bit green around the gills. "Best not tell Ron. At least not right away. Not with Lorrell upset. You know how he is. He can't really take the stress, and with Quidditch and N.E.W.T.s and everything…"

"I know, you're right. But that means you two have to keep mum about it. And no, Ginny, of course I don't call him that. Right now I don't call him anything but Severus."

"Ooh, that's weird too," said Ginny.

"And I'm never going to call him Sev or Sevy because that's just asinine and sounds childish. He has a name, and if I call him anything down the road, it'll be like honey or something. I don't know. Even that sounds strange."

"I don't know if I can listen to this," Harry told her. "We have to go to Potions in a few minutes!"

Hermione huffed. "You'll be fine. I'm not going to go and snog him silly in front of the class or anything!"

"Snogging Snape. That's it. I'll see you in class, Hermione. Later, Gin."

They waved goodbye to him as Ginny pumped her for more details. Hermione explained how they had chatted after they had researched a bit and how he had had the chess set sing to her.

"You have an enchanted chess set?" asked Ginny. "And it sings? That's amazing! And he had it sing to you? Oh my, that is too sweet! I just cannot imagine that coming from him. Professor Snape…secret Hufflepuff. Who knew?"

"He is not a Hufflepuff. I can't even get him to agree to be cordial to Harry. He only said he'd try."

Ginny's eyes got as big as saucers. "You got Severus Snape to agree to even think about being decent to a Potter? Harry Potter? Hermione, are you sure you want to go into teaching? You could have a great career in diplomacy."

"Thanks, Ginny," Hermione said as they headed off to their respective classes. "I've had a lot of practice."

**Teaser: "Never think about the boy a day in their lives, and suddenly, everyone is all distraught at his passing."**


	26. Chapter 25

**A/N: **Sorry a bit late. My beta forgot to attach it to her earlier email and as awesome as she is, I knew I couldn't post without her! And I'm recovering from food poisoning on top of things. You want to give me virtual soup and review, yes?

**Chapter Twenty Five **

Sitting in his study with a book was not nearly as much fun when it was for business instead of pleasure.

Three weeks had passed, and Hermione had dedicated part of each day to researching ways of bettering their chances in the coming conflict. Each day, it seemed there were more and more whispers of people disappearing, whether unexpectedly or by going into hiding. A few students had been removed from school, but mostly they just went about their business during the day and battened down the hatches at night.

Ginny was still leading Dumbledore's Army. Harry often came in to assist and teach the students some more advanced magic that he had learned along his way. At the start of the year, the attendance had been nominal, and it had felt more like a simple after-school activity. But now things were becoming real. The students were starting to show what they were made of as they eagerly gathered two, and sometimes three, times a week to either practice new spells and simple tactics or to discuss exit strategies for the young students and the weak points of the castle.

Hermione, Harry, Ron, and Ginny knew that the Order was also looking into these things. However, there was no denying the fact that no one knew the castle as well as the students – especially the Weasleys – and that they had authority in sheer numbers. A hundred upperclassmen could corral and evacuate the younger ones far more effectively than thirty Order members, who would also be much more useful on the front lines if there was a large-scale attack on the castle.

In fact, during one of the rare meetings she attended, Hermione suggested that the fifth years take on the task of evacuating the castle or hiding in the Room of Requirement with the younger students, thus leaving the older ones to defend the castle as well. Soon, they made lists of all the younger students in each house. Hermione enchanted the lists together so that if someone marked off a name of a student found and brought to safety on one list, it would be reflected on all the lists, ensuring that no one was overlooked.

In the dusty silence of the sparse room, Hermione flipped another page. She knew that her friends were a little concerned about her absence for at least an hour or two every day, but she tried to explain to them how much more productive she was in his rooms, rather than the common room or even the library.

"Productive. Yeah, I'm sure," said Ron.

"Yes, productivity. As in, the amount of work produced in a given period of time. I know you don't understand the concept, but believe me when I tell you I cannot possibly accomplish as much in here with the noise and the chaos of students chatting and playing games, or even in the library, where I am constantly being sought out, especially this time a year, to help study and revise for exams. Professor Snape leaves me be, and I can search through his extensive library and have easy access to the restricted section."

"Alright, Hermione, sheesh. I just don't see how you can be down there every day."

"Which is exactly why I'm down there, and you're not," Hermione shot back as Ron waved an irritated arm in her direction and went to seek out Lorrell.

"Do you think you're going to tell him about you and Snape soon?" Harry asked.

"Not if I can help it," she told him.

Harry gave her a long-suffering sigh. "He isn't going to take it well."

"Why do you think I'm waiting?"

He looked at her in that clear, focused way that unnerved her when directed her way. "And you're happy?"

That was a question that was easy to answer. She beamed at him. "The happiest. He's a good man, Harry."

And now she was in that good man's rooms with a handful of books spread around her on the floor as she leaned against the bottom shelf. He had given her quite a bit of grief when she had first taken her research project to his floor, but he had hushed when she pointed out the logic that he had no large table for her to do her work.

He sat with his own book in the comfortable armchair. He was wearing small, square reading glasses which Hermione was pretty sure were the sexiest accessory ever invited. She had never really had a preference for men with or without frames until she saw his. She mentioned to him once that she really liked them, which had just made him embarrassed and caused him to shut them in a drawer. Silly man.

~~HGSS~~

Professor Snape was watching Hermione as she gazed at him from his floor with a wistful look on her face. He peered at her from over the rim of his glasses. "Yes?"

She quickly looked back to her book. "Oh, nothing. Just thinking."

He watched her for a moment longer, noting the delicate blush on her cheeks, which only made her lovelier. His face never changed, but inside, he was content.

He flipped to the next page in the large, old book.

Hermione was researching possible enhancement charms for Harry, while he was looking into ways to diminish Voldemort's power. He was starting by researching Voldemort's genealogy. He was hoping to find some genetic defect or aspect of his family history that would give him a clue as to where to start with a potion. It was a long shot, but so was anything at this point.

He flipped through page after page of pure-blood family histories. Most were so intertwined that one family could take up half a volume. His research was going slowly, as often these histories were incomplete and were carried on in an extension of another family in a separate book, making multiple cross-references common when trying to determine the lines of each family.

He was staring at a family tree he had always found a bit amusing.

The Black family tree.

Ah, that mongrel had come from such inbred stock. At points it was so convoluted he didn't know if anyone knew all the connections between any one person and the rest of the wizarding world. Or if they weren't all related through the Blacks, period.

This was a print of the family tree. It actually folded out and spanned several pages with tiny portraits and minuscule writing. Curious if this connected to Voldemort as well, he opened the multiple folds of parchment.

The noise made Hermione look up from her reading briefly, but she shortly lost interest and went back to Self Enhancement for the Sufficient Wizard.

He went to his desk and laid the unfolded print out to evaluate the visible connections with what he knew of the Black family history. He was certain, with the Gaunt family belonging to the Slytherin line, once one of the most prominent pure-blood families – rather like the Princes, he thought with a grimace – that there must be a connection somewhere.

Wouldn't that be rich, the self-righteous mutt related to the darkest wizard? For a moment, he regretted Black's passing, if only so that he could tell him of his discoveries when he made them.

He reviewed each portrait individually, straining his eyes to decipher the names and dates. As he came across the more recent history, names began to go missing from the tree. Some of them he was aware of, such as Sirius himself.

Snape followed the tree to where it led over to the Prewett family. The Blacks were connected to them only a few times, the latest being Lucretia Black and Ignatius Prewett. It was common knowledge that Ignatius Prewett was the brother of the dolt who had helped spawn Molly, the matriarch of the Weasley family. He was therefore surprised to find that the two brothers were placed next to a third bubble, which had been scorched off the current painting.

Curious if this was the connection or lead he needed, he flipped through a few of the book's other pages, not finding what he needed. He knew that individuals were automatically placed on the pure-blood family tree at birth and could be taken off later. However, they were also recorded in birth announcements in the press and in the records of the hospital of birth.

Asking Hermione's forgiveness for his absence, he left her to retrieve a few of the record books from the school's library. Forgoing the often incomplete recordings of the _Daily Prophet_, he retrieved a few of the record books from the major wizarding hospitals which covered the time period in question.

Returning to his rooms, he nodded at Hermione, who barely registered his presence, and eagerly searched the new materials. He found the records of the two brothers' births, the younger two brothers if the scorch mark before them was to be believed.

Where, oh where, was the third? Intrigued, he kept searching.

Finally, going back to 1882, he found the records of a Percy Aldridge Prewett, born in Melbourne, Australia. Apparently, the family had relocated back to England sometime between the boy's birth and the next son.

And why?

He was completely engaged. Why had this son fallen off the family tree?

He found no record of him at Hogwarts, where the other two boys had attended.

He found no record of him at the Sydney School for Sorcery either.

Looking through the Prewett household and the birth certificates, he found one for a maid there, a Rose Grainger, who had allegedly had a son named Percy in the same year, but his certificate hadn't been filed until the boy was five.

Now it became clear. The boy had been a Squib. It was not uncommon for pure-blood families to hide the abominations in their line, much as Muggle families had hidden deformed or mentally handicapped children, keeping them in a separate room or sending them away to far-off family.

He wrote down the boy's name for future research when he had time. Perhaps this Percy Grainger would lead him towards…

Wait a minute.

Percy Grainger.

That was Hermione's grandfather.

Who had been born in Australia.

If this was her family, and he was a Prewett, that would mean…

Shit.

~~HGSS~~

Hermione walked into the Great Hall in the morning to almost dead silence. She swore she heard her own footfalls over the gentle scraping of silverware on dishes and a hushed murmur.

She really needed to start getting here earlier.

She spotted Harry and Neville with Lorrell and went to join them. "Alright, who died?"

"Miles Bletchley," said Neville in a whisper.

"The guy who jinxed Alicia in the library last year?" said a surprised Hermione. She had been joking!

"Yeah. They found him this morning. Well, most of him," Neville told her.

Lorrell spoke up. "Apparently, he lost an arm."

"He was pretty torn up," said Harry. "And he had the Dark Mark carved into his arm. I hear he had a Muggle girlfriend. They don't know who got to him, but it looks like he was tortured using Muggle methods. Blood was all over the house, and someone had even written with it on the walls about him being a traitor and muddying the bloodlines."

"That's horrible! Do they know who did it? Did they leave any traces? Was anyone else around? You know, it could just be an imposter or something, but what if a Death Eater did it? Do you think they would escalate to actually murdering purebloods over affiliations?"

"No, they don't know. They are looking now. It was a Death Eater though. They are the only ones who can cast the Morsmordre. They found one over his house."

A horrible thought occurred to Hermione, and she looked over to Draco. He was at the table, but he looked pale and withdrawn to her. Had he been there last night? Did he have to stand by and watch or, even worse, participate as they murdered one of his former classmates? Miles had just graduated last year. Hermione didn't know if they had been close, but they would have at least been familiar. Her heart went out to him, knowing the position he put himself in at only seventeen.

Had Severus heard? He was not there at the High Table, and she doubted she could have been able to tell from his expression anyway. She would have to go find him later.

Harry was still talking about the attack when her mind wandered back into focus on the present. "Hogwarts may be the only truly safe place soon, especially for Muggle-borns and Muggle-born sympathizers." He looked straight at Hermione. "I bet it's really dangerous right now to be a wizard with a Muggle-born girlfriend. Especially if you've had anything to do with Voldemort."

"I think it's always been dangerous, Harry. Ron will have to be careful," Hermione told him, willfully misunderstanding him and standing suddenly. "We've been experiencing prejudice since we came here. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to get to class."

Hermione actually had a little time before she was required in Transfiguration. Professor Miller was rather like Tonks and a little forgiving when it came to tardiness. She decided to take a walk through the courtyard that was on her way to class. Being March, it was still chilly with patches of snow on the ground, but life was beginning to return to the grounds. Some things even Voldemort couldn't stop.

Walking through the garden, she stopped to brush snow off a little green bud pushing its stubborn way through the frozen earth. Squatting, she watched it for a moment as if she could will it to grow. She laughed at her own futility and continued on the path. She wondered if her mother's garden would still grow this summer without her. Would the new tenants keep the flowers her mother had gently cultivated for years?

She wondered what her parents would think of the path her life had taken since their passing. It hurt sometimes to remember that she couldn't send an owl to her dad or have late-night girl chats with her mum. At the start of each year, she had told her mum all about Ron and the Weasleys. Hermione was fairly certain her mother had known that Ron was just temporary but had been kind enough not to say so and to listen to her infatuated daughter.

What would she have said if Hermione had been able to tell her about Severus? She could just picture the conversation.

"_Hey, mum, so, I wanted to tell you something."_

"_You can tell me anything, dear."_

"_Well, you remember my Potions professor? The one who insulted my teeth and is a spy? Well, I'm in love with him, and we're seeing each other. How about I bring him around for fish and chips one night to meet you and Dad?"_

Hermione shook her head, clearing the vision. That would be too surreal.

She had no idea how she would have introduced him to her family. It was strange, not having to meet his family either. It was just the two of them. Perhaps that made it easier. There was no familial pressure. No 'You're dating a Muggle-born student? or 'You're dating your older professor?'

Knowing her parents, they would have understood. Her father had met her mother after moving back to England. They had fallen in love and wanted to marry. Her mother's parents had been skeptical, even though her father had only been eight years older, but, with her mum being only eighteen, they had been worried he was taking advantage of her. Eventually, they had relented, and her parents had obviously been well-suited for each other.

They had mentioned time and again that they trusted Hermione to know herself. She was a very poised and confident young woman with more than enough common sense.

But even still, what would they have thought when this tall, dark, and handsome man – in her eyes – walked through the door into their quaint country home? Would he have fit in, sitting on the white floral sofa next to her mother's crocheted afghan?

It was difficult being in love with someone so different from your upbringing. She felt like she was leaving the Muggle world behind completely, with nothing there to keep her anymore. No summers and holidays in the family home. She wondered how Harry dealt with it, although she couldn't blame him if he was completely overjoyed and never thought about the fact that he was leaving his mother's world behind.

Leaving the garden courtyard, Hermione worked her way through the throng of students. It boggled her mind that no matter which way you travelled in the hall, it always seemed like you were going against the rest of the crowd.

She still pondered the thought of Snape and her parents. Would they have thought he was too aloof or insensitive for their sometimes overemotional daughter? Would they have cared about his past or his love for Harry's mum?

The full history between the two of them was not known to her, but she could imagine the look of surprise on her mother's face had she ever known.

In the end, she thought her parents would have been alright with her decision. A little persuasion may have been needed, on both ends.

Because who knew what Severus would have thought of her quiet, exacting father and her impetuous, outgoing mother.

But it was just them now. Just Severus and Hermione. The only opinion they had to worry about, besides her friends and the school's, was, well, the entire wizarding population's, including Voldemort.

What in the name of Merlin was she getting herself into?

Settling into her chair in Miller's class, she wondered. What _was_ she getting herself into? Was this a good idea, involving herself, at a time like this, with the man who used to be at the right side of the darkest wizard ever known? Was she placing them both in serious danger – more danger than they would have been in normally – by having a relationship with him? Was it fair to either of them to put such a fragile and personal thing like their feelings for each other on a pedestal in front of their entire community?

Then she thought of his face, so open and expressive the night he had thought she was going to leave. Though he had yet to say much – and neither had she – she knew he cared for her. And knowing that made the rest seem diminished.

No, she would give this her best effort. And she had not failed at many things so far.

All her classes that day were extremely subdued. Even the younger students who hadn't really known Bletchley were quiet. A hush was over the castle as it mourned the loss of the young student. A few teachers made comments at the beginning of class, and Professor Flitwick loudly blew his nose into his handkerchief throughout his lessons.

The Gryffindor common room wasn't much better. After returning from Charms, her hopes of running in and out were dashed by the glum collection of her friends by the fire. Dropping her book bag near the sofa, she sat with them, waiting a moment before speaking.

"How is everyone?"

Ron shrugged. "Alright, I suppose. Better than some."

A murmur of agreement went through the crowd before Lorrell spoke up.

"I'm sure my mom is going to want me home now. Hopefully she doesn't hear about it right away. I'm certainly not going to tell her."

"So she still wants you to return?" asked Ginny.

"Yea," Ron told them. "Her mum seems pretty lenient, but she's worried, you know."

Ginny nodded as Harry and Hermione just shrugged.

"I'm going to talk to her in a few days, but right now, I just want to enjoy Easter. I miss being at the Burrow, and the house-elves are good and all, but Mrs. Weasley is a really good cook."

"Yes, she is," Hermione agreed, thinking of kippers and pie.

"Will you be coming down as well?" asked Ron.

"Oh, well, um, I didn't really know I was invited," said Hermione with a glance at Lorrell.

"'Course you are," Ron told her.

"You're one of our oldest mates, Hermione," said Harry.

Hermione thought it over. She would like to see the Weasleys, but she was knee-deep in research, and she really wanted the quiet weekend to spend with Severus – if he wanted to. They had been taking things extremely slowly, so she wasn't sure if she was imposing on him yet or what his normal plans were.

"Please?" said Ginny. "I've missed you at home. It just isn't the same without you."

"I have some things I'm still working on here, but how about I come on Sunday for the big meal, okay?"

"Yeah, 'Mione," said Ron. "I'll owl Mum and tell her to expect you. Not that it matters much, she'll be making enough food to feed an army, but, you know, I'll tell her."

Hermione nodded. "I'm going to go and get a few more books. I'll be in Professor Snape's office if anyone needs me."

She wouldn't really be in his office, but it was better to say in mixed company. If anyone truly needed her and came there, the wards on the door would alert him in his chambers, and she could easily step into the next room as though she had been there the entire time.

Reaching his rooms, she lifted her hand to knock on the frame when she heard a small latch pop free.

"Just go in, dear. And be wary. I'm afraid he's being rather acrimonious this evening," the Count told her.

"Thank you for the warning."

She popped her head in and noticed the door to his lab was cracked open. As she walked in, she must have made some noise since he began to snap at her.

"I don't know why in the bloody hell you're here again. There is absolutely nothing I care to discuss. Now, if you don't mind, I'd prefer that you turn your tartan-clad arse around and head back from where you came."

Hermione repressed a chuckle. "Well, I didn't wear tartan today, but I can change if you want."

He quickly turned his head, sending the unwashed black hair flying around his face. "Hermione."

"Expecting someone else?"

"After a fashion. Minerva has been after me all day, telling me to express my feelings and sympathies. I expressed them to her, but I don't think she cared for them."

"Brewing?"

He made a noncommittal noise and said, "Calming Draught. Poppy's nearly out. Never think about the boy a day in their lives, and suddenly, everyone is all distraught at his passing."

"Why don't you let me finish that for you while you go freshen up before dinner?" she asked.

He looked at the potion and furtively sniffed himself. He had been down there for quite some time, hadn't he? No one had ever offered to assist with brewing before, but he wasn't going to turn down her offer.

"I'm just about to add the lavender."

"I know," she told him. "Go on."

As he moved to pass her, she said, "Wait, come here first."

He took a small step closer. "I'm rather unsavory at the moment; you probably don't want to be near me."

"I don't mind," she said as she filled the space between them and tipped up on her toes to kiss him, feeling the stubble on his face.

He was constantly surprised when she did that. He didn't know if women were typically this affectionate behind closed doors or if this had to do with her Muggle upbringing, but he wasn't going to complain.

"Would you mind if we had dinner in?" he asked, still holding her. "I had something I wanted to talk to you about."

"Fine with me," she said as she headed to the cauldron. "Just order something when you're done washing up. You know what I eat."

Marveling that he did, in fact, know what she preferred, he went to see about his shower.

As he unbuttoned his trousers, he found that getting naked and washing himself was very difficult knowing that they were separated by mere stone.

Once showered and dressed, he summoned Inez and asked for their dinner. The crack was still ringing in the bathroom as he stepped out to find Hermione in his chair, bare feet dangling over one arm and a book propped in her lap.

If this greeted him every day in his chambers, he would die a happy man.

Seeing him, she smiled and swung her legs back over the chair. As he sat down, he told her in a grave tone, "There's something I want to tell you."

"It's okay," she told him, not wanting him to have to relive the painful memories if he didn't wish to. "I already know."

"You do?" he asked. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"I didn't want to upset you," she said. "I know the history, and well, it's common knowledge, so I didn't think it needed to be discussed. We can talk about it, though, if you feel like you need to."

It was common knowledge? How had he missed that? "I just wasn't expecting it."

"I don't think any one of us was," Hermione said sadly.

"I feel like everything has changed."

"It's alright. Every day, it's a little easier to bear."

"I doubt it," he said. "I think I'd rather have killed myself."

"Severus! It's sad, but he was just a student."

"But it's Weasley!"

"What?" she said. "Nothing's wrong with Ron."

"Well, I think we could argue that point to death, but even if you are amiable with him, it doesn't mean you want to count him as family," he told her. "How long have you known?"

Now she was thoroughly confused. "Known what?"

"That you're related to the Weasleys?"

"No, I'm not," she said. "My parents are Muggles. I have no family. That's not very funny, Severus."

"Wait, first, what were you talking about?"

"Miles Bletchley, of course!"

"Ah, yes, well. This information is much more shocking. It was well known in Slytherin that Bletchley flaunted things he shouldn't have." He retrieved the book with the large print of the Black family tree and the records he had found.

"You are aware that Molly Weasley is a cousin by marriage to the Black family?"

"Yes," Hermione responded.

"That connection happens here," he said, showing her the painting with the burned portrait in the Prewett family. "As you see, one portrait is missing. I had only ever heard of the two brothers, Ignatius and Molly's father, William. Most of the family has been scorched off, but we still know who they are. There was no mention of this third individual. So I searched birth records. I found that Ignatius and William's parents had given birth to a son, who later turned out to be a Squib, a disgrace in itself.  
He was raised by a maid in the household. The family even left them behind when the Prewetts moved back to England from Australia. The Prewetts had had a baby boy, Percy. He took the name of his fill-in mother, the maid – Rose Grainger."

Hermione stifled a gasp.

"This is Percy Grainger, your grandfather, and first cousin to Molly Weasley, née Prewett."

"And then he had my father," carried on Hermione, "who must have been raised by Ignatius."

"Indeed. It seems the middle son had a fond attachment to his Squib brother, and the country itself, and moved there later in his life with his family."

"Oh, my God. Oh, my God," repeated Hermione. "And Ron's brother, Percy Ignatius. Oh, my God. She knew him! Molly must have known my grandfather. But it's no wonder she didn't know it was me. I mean, my parents aren't magical, and my dad didn't keep in touch. I always thought I was a Muggle, and Molly probably never even met my father. And if so, then she is my cousin once removed. And Ron is my second cousin." She stopped. "Ron is my second cousin. Oh, God. I'm going to be sick!"

Snape watched as she bolted for the bathroom and slammed the door behind her. Even through the solid oak door, he could hear the retching.

"He's my cousin!" Hermione wailed from the other side. "He's my cousin, and we almost…" Her sentence was cut off by the sound of more retching.

He felt sorry for her, but he would be lying if he said he wasn't at least a little bit amused by this development. He could now say with confidence that he was not concerned about her going back to Weasley now, even if the American was not in the picture.

"The ginger hair," Hermione cried. "I should have known! Of all the wizards, why? Why, Merlin? What the hell is wrong with you?"

He chuckled a little in spite of himself. He knew it shouldn't be funny, but the irony was rather amusing. As was her pitiful reaction.

Looking up as she came out of the bathroom a few minutes later, her face was washed, but she was still crying.

"Come here," he said, returning the favor she had once extended to him.

She buried her face in his robes. "I'm so happy that I have family and that they're the Weasleys, but I'm also mortified, Severus. Humiliated! I was dating my cousin!"

"Yes, well, welcome to the wizarding world," he told her with sarcasm.

"You're not going to tell anyone, are you?" she asked, suddenly afraid. "Please let me do it."

"I wouldn't dream of interfering," he said with honesty and a little smirk she couldn't see. "I only ask to be there."

"I'll want you there. I think I'll need the support."

He held her close, put in his place by her words and realizing how much this had upset her and thrown her world out of order beyond just the fact that she had dated that blockhead.

Snape would be there, however, for as long as she needed him to be, for as long as she wanted him.

**Teaser:** "Did you seduce her? What have you done, Severus?"

**Side note:** The majority of the family histories in here are canon. The embellishment comes by making Percy the third brother and having his raised by a maid. Pretty much everything easily, and shockingly, fell into place. Thus why Hermione remained an unintended virgin. It was just too much fun not to do.


	27. Chapter 26

**Author's Note:** Happy to see so many enjoyed last chapter. Was a bit hesitant about it. Last chapter gave us our 500th review on , everyone give three cheers for Anubis Ankh! As her prize, she got to set me a challenge that I would write for her. It includes a few quotes, Crookshanks and Voldemort in a dress. I'll let you all know when it's posted. What shall we do for 1,000?

Some of you wondered about the family tree. Here is the original: http:/ /harrypotter .wikia .com/wiki/Prewett_family

Here is my played with one. I added names for Molly's and Hermione's parents to make it easier if I needed to reference them. http:/ /i47 .photobucket .com /albums /f196 /Cybrokat /Grangerheritance .jpg

**Playlist: **http:/ /www .youtube .com/view_play_list?p=612B65F028686690

**Chapter Twenty Six**

So many things had happened between Christmas and Easter that Hermione was not sorry to wave goodbye to the students on the train platform. She felt a bit guilty, being Head Girl and all, but truly, sometimes even swots needed time to themselves.

Heading back into the castle, fighting the urge to skip, she decided she would spend a lazy afternoon in the library. The sun was out, since it was the first of April, and the light would be streaming through the large panes of glass. Imagining the highlighted swirls of dust and the sun-warmed patches of red carpet, she grabbed Crookshanks too.

Halfway there, she wondered if Severus would be expecting her.

They hadn't discussed plans for Easter...should they have? New relationships were so awkward, and he certainly didn't make it any easier. Perhaps she could convince him to pop into the Burrow for a moment. Molly always asked after him, and if he was truly going to try and make this work, he needed to be a little bit social. Or at least try. And if the rest of them were unwelcoming, then she wouldn't make him do it again. But you never know until you try.

She wondered if he would care to join her in the library. True, the seating was not as comfortable, but it couldn't be beat for the space and sunshine.

Dropping off Crookshanks, who immediately settled on a windowsill, she found her Galleon and informed him she was in the library.

_Be there soon. _

The silly grin would not be removed when she thought about him coming to see her just because he wanted to see her. No Quidditch, no Chocolate Frog cards, no sneaking into the kitchens or through Hogsmeade.

Hermione Granger was a very happy woman.

Severus Snape, however, was feeling a little more insecure. _She did want me to join her, correct? She only mentioned she was in the library. Was that just informing me of the reason for her absence, or was it an invitation? Dammit, Severus, you are a berk, aren't you? Well, I told her I was coming. I'll see how she is feeling and then judge whether she deems it an intrusion on her time._

With a self-deprecating grimace, he continued the climb up to the library.

When he found her, she was lying on her back on the floor, feet in a chair, bathed in the golden warmth of the day, with the umber furball she called a cat by her side.

She didn't see him over the book in front of her until he was leaning over her. "Oh, hello!" she said brightly. "I wasn't expecting you so soon."

"I can leave then," he said, turning to do just that. "I don't want to intrude."

"No! That's not what I meant. You're always welcome here with me, Severus." She moved her feet off the chair. "Grab a book and take a seat."

Giving her a skeptical look, he picked up one of the books she had culled from the stacks and took the proffered chair.

Hermione propped her socked feet on his knee, and they spent several lovely hours with only a few words spoken between them.

No others were needed.

When the light began to wane, it reminded them it was time to find dinner.

On their way to the Great Hall, each with tome in hand, Hermione plucked up her courage and decided to ask him about his plans for the holiday.

"Do you have anything special planned for Sunday?"

He looked at her like that was a trick question. Was he supposed to? Was there something he should have planned and hadn't? "No," he said in a drawn-out tone. "I typically follow my normal routine. We just eat better that day."

"How do you feel about Molly Weasley's cooking?"

"She is an adequate cook…I'm not going to the Burrow," he told he with a glare, preparing himself for the big fight.

Hermione felt deflated. "It was just an idea. You don't have to," she said. "But, I just figured you'd try… with me. But…if you don't want to be there with me, that's alright too. I would only ask you to attend once though, Severus. If they're rude, I'd never ask you again."

She looked up at him with those sorrowful, honey-brown eyes, so wide and pleading. Dammit.

"Fine. But I make no promises on how long I'll stay."

"You'll come? Really? Thank you!" She stopped in the hallway to give him an unexpected hug. "You know, Molly is always asking after you."

"Nice to know Minerva isn't just lying then."

"And we don't have to tell anyone about, well, you know," she said, waving a hand in between the two of them.

He nodded. "That's probably best, for now."

"Severus?"

"Hmm?"

"I'd shout it from the rooftops if I could."

He gave her a rare little smile. "I'm sure Hagrid is pleased you don't."

"Hagrid?" she questioned.

"It'd take him days to find all the owls again."

Dinner in the hall was an intimate affair with the table reduced once again. A few more students were on hand this time, as not as many had bothered to go home for the short vacation.

The group of about thirty had a lively conversation, no one paying attention to the quiet Potions master and the Head Girl sitting across from each other at one end of the table. They might have been more interested if they had seen her feet intertwined with his underneath the table.

After dinner found them in the lab, back to business once again, trying to take advantage of each student-free moment they had.

Tonight's trial was an adaption of the Invigoration Draught, to see if it could bolster magic as well as energy, but not only the potion was being heightened. The tension was thick in the small, hot room.

As Hermione focused on adding three drops of pepper oil, she looked up over the steaming cauldron to find dark eyes looking back at her, nostrils flaring. She stared intensely back at him before she looked down again to stir.

They worked in silence, passing furtive looks at each other as the room grew warmer. Hermione could feel the perspiration on her face, and she watched in awe as a long drop slid all the way down the cheek of her companion, only to drip down onto the oppressive black jacket he wore like armor.

When he squeezed past her to access the large cupboard on her side, she held her breath as he passed, waiting for his touch.

He, in turn, paused behind her, watching her tighten before him, practically on the balls of her feet, longing to reach out to her but attempting to keep himself restrained.

The tension finally broke when they both reached for ashwinder eggs. As their hands touched over the protected jar, he grabbed her arm and pulled her around the table and into his waiting arms.

Hermione's eyes were wide, not having seen this display of passion from him before. What happened to taking it slow, day by day? Up to this point, they had only shared a few kisses and gentle caresses, and she was doing her best not to overwhelm him.

That was apparently forgotten as he held her. With her face tipped up to his, he ran one hand through her hair, from scalp to curly ends. She was breathing hard from being pulled to him, and all she could smell was sandalwood, sweat, and spices from the warmth of the room. The smell of Ron just off the Quidditch pitch had never appealed to her, but the slight tang of Severus' beneath the smell that usually surrounded him caused a rush in places she was trying in vain to ignore at the moment.

He noticed her pupils narrowing and the flush on her cheeks. "Are you alright?"

"I'm having a reaction to the chemosignal of smelling your androstadienone," she babbled.

With a quiet, throaty rumble, he leaned toward her, wrapping her in his scent, his lips meeting hers in what started as a gentle brush and quickly became an overwhelming need to touch and explore each other. He hoisted her up on the edge of the table as she ran her hands in between his robes and jacket, feeling the sturdy body beneath. As he leaned into her, she spread her legs, wrapping them around him, holding him close.

Being this close to the center of her, embraced so intimately, touching her, had him as hard as he thought he could be, imagining those lovely, energetic lips in other places, picturing her hands running up and down his thighs.

Hermione wrapped her arms round his neck, pressing her chest to him, allowing him to feel the swells of her breasts as she gasped for breaths in between powerful kisses. He thought he was going to drown in her, drown in Hermione, never coming up for air again and never wanting to. He loved to kiss her. Loved the intimacy of it, the acceptance, how she willingly opened herself to him in the give and take of pleasure.

Severus could imagine just laying her down, right there on the table, vials and cauldrons smashing to the floor as he ripped open his robes and took her. He felt himself twitch at this thought, other parts approving as much as his brain. As he thought this, Hermione ran her hands down his sides, over his arse, and around his waist. She could feel him against her, the throbbing hot wand against the inside of her leg, pressing there, insistent. Her hand came down to stroke him, and he jumped back at first contact, ashamed that she could feel his need for her. As a grown man, he should be able to show more discretion, unlike the slobbering imbeciles found rutting in the corridors.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have taken advantage like that. I'm sorry, Hermione."

Hermione looked at him, bewildered, mussed hair covering part of her face and her legs still wrapped around him. "Who thinks they've been taken advantage of? I was an equal and willing participant. In fact, anytime you think that needs to be repeated, you just go for it."

"It's not just my actions. I apologize for pushing myself on you like that." He tried to pull away from her, but her strong legs kept him close. "It is disrespectful for a gentleman to be so…obvious."

Hermione had a little light bulb. "What? This?" she asked, as she ground her hips against him, running along his shaft.

"Circefuck, Hermione!"

She was pleased at seeing his want for her, and placed her hands on his thighs to hold his attention. "It would be nice if women's hair turned bright green showing our need for you too, but it doesn't, so you'll just have to trust me when I say that I was having thoughts about the use of this table in the future, too. You don't need to be formal or restrained with me. You can be angry, or happy, or needy, and I'm still going to be here. If you didn't have at least a little reaction, I think I would have been insulted."

He stood up straighter, and she finally released him. "I shall still endeavor to be more courteous."

"Well, please don't," she told him. "Or you're going to make me very discourteous."

He raised a brow at her in question.

She leaned back on her elbows in a very wanton position, legs still wide. "This table is a good height, isn't it?"

He had forgotten she had mentioned the table and its uses. He groaned as he left the room. This witch was going to be the death of him.

Hermione looked back at the cauldron behind her. A steaming, bright yellow potion greeted her. Perfect. She quickly bottled the trial, laughing that even their sex life was perfectly timed in between potions batches.

The rest of the weekend was rather dull. He had reverted back to being a little shy with her, physically, as though she might break if he did as he pleased.

Hermione lay in bed one night, slightly frustrated, still smelling the scent of the lab in her hair, and wondered about his actions. He was obviously interested; she had done what she could to let him know he was welcome and encouraged. Minerva had given her blessing, and while she expected them to maintain discretion, she was more than likely not expecting them to keep a completely chaste relationship.

What was causing his hesitation?

She put together pieces of what she knew of him and wondered if it was because of his mother.

Thinking back to the night she had first sung for him, the night of her father's birthday, he told her he had never harmed a woman. That he didn't want to be like his father.

Had his father forced himself on his mother? Had he beat her or berated her? Forced her to do things she didn't want to do?

Severus was extremely conscientious of Hermione, letting her know that she had control, and hyperaware of any aggressive behavior, even if it was merely assertive to anyone else's view.

But perhaps she didn't mind him being slightly aggressive. Just a little. Especially if it led to her being lifted on that table again.

She despaired for him a little, thinking of what he must have gone through before he even came to school here. He had had a childhood so different from her own in ways which had nothing to do with him being magical.

Thinking of her childhood…her grandfather had been a Squib. And she was related to the Weasleys. My, didn't that make the world smaller.

She doubted her father had known, or her parents would have mentioned something when they learned of her feelings for Ron. Open-minded as they were, she didn't think that dating one's family was a threshold they would cross.

How would things have changed if she had known there was magic and come from a background like Ron and Ginny had? She could never know, but she was happy with the time she had spent with her parents and how they had raised her. The past was just that. Past. She would try to look to her future. It was interesting to her that her parents had asked Arthur and Molly to be her guardians. Had her dad known, on some level, that she belonged there?

Wanting to wait until she had a firm grasp on things herself – and to look into this newfound family history – she was not going to tell them right away about what she had found out. They had enough things to deal with at the moment. And that kept the revelation of Severus off the menu as well.

The night before she was to attend the party at the Weasley's, she asked Minerva if she could speak to her for a moment after dinner.

Severus watched, wary, as the two women left the room for the headmistress' office.

Once inside, Minerva asked her, "Well, dear? What is it?"

"Well, tomorrow I'm to spend the day with the Weasley's. I was just wondering if I could Floo from your office, since Apperition isn't the safest mode of transportation at the moment."

"That's it? That's what you wanted to discuss with me?"

"Yes, ma'am," Hermione told her dutifully as Minerva took a seat in the high chair behind her desk.

"Of course you can. I'll tell the gargoyle to let you in if I'm not present. I was rather hoping you had come here with a different topic in mind."

"Such as?" asked Hermione, realizing this was not going to be just a quick chat, not that she and Minerva ever had quick chats.

"Why, Severus, of course! He has been sleeping soundly – of course, not being under He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named will help with that as well, I'm sure – but he seems almost cordial at times, and he is cheerfully, for him, sitting with you at the High Table for the holidays. So? Have you talked to him then?"

Smiling at Minerva being such a busybody, she nodded her affirmation. "I have," she said.

"And? Out with it, girl. An old heart like mine can't take the suspense."

This made Hermione laugh outright as she told her mentor, "And he is in agreement that we should see if something works between us."

"You make it sound like a business contract."

"We're logical people, I suppose. It's difficult to explain, but yes, we're together. We're keeping quiet though, as you've asked. It's been a month, and besides you, only Harry and Ginny know."

"Wise of you to keep it from Mr. Weasley for the time being. You two have enough to handle," said Minerva with a sip of her tea.

Agreeing with her, they made small talk for a while, mostly consisting of Hermione refusing to tell Minerva much more, until the hour grew late. Hermione wished to reach her rooms before the last of the natural light was gone.

In the morning at an early breakfast, she was surprised to see Snape come in as well. Neither were known to be particularly early risers.

"Come to see me off?" she asked, the few people present not paying attention to their conversation.

"Perhaps," he responded cryptically.

"I hope I'll see you later," she said. "Breakfast will be later in the morning, and dinner will be at three. I plan on being back to the castle by nine or so. Hopefully you'll come for dinner?"

"We shall see."

He walked her to Minerva's office, and the headmistress let them in with a Cheshire grin. They both bid Hermione goodbye as she stood confidently in the fireplace and recited, "The Burrow!"

Gone in a swirl of green smoke, she arrived, coughing, in a very busy living room.

"Hermione!" several people exclaimed, and she was being hugged by Harry and several redheads even before her coughing fit had passed.

"It's nice to see you all as well. May I breathe please? I just saw most of you four days ago!"

She was released by the crowd, only to be ushered to the table by a click of Molly's tongue. "Much too thin, dear. Much too thin. They're working you to the bone, I bet, with N.E.W.T.s this year and being Head Girl to boot! Why, I remember when my Percy," she said with just a slight pause, "was Head Boy. Never ate enough, always fretting. Well, eat up then! There is more than enough to go around, more than enough!"

Hermione was thankful she had only had toast this morning as now porridge and sausage were before her, with a rasher of bacon, eggs, and fresh fruit. Taking a bit of each, she slid onto a bench at the table, where most of the others had finished.

"Hello, Professor Lupin," she greeted her tablemate.

"Just Remus now, Hermione. I'm no longer a professor."

"Remus, then," she told him as she whipped her hair over her shoulder to keep it out of her plate. She really should have grabbed a hair band before she left.

As her hair flew past his nose, he was reminded that the full moon was a scant four days past. He closed his eyes, breathing deep, smelling her innocence, her endorphins, and the herbs in her shampoo. He instantly knew she was just past ovulation and had been consuming many fresh fruits based on her natural scent. He also smelled…a male.

Severus.

His eyes were wild as he stared at the young girl, naïve as to his thoughts, slowly nibbling on a slice of bacon as she listened to the conversation around her and answered questions about her wellbeing. She seemed happy and carefree for the moment, although she did keep looking at Molly Weasley in an odd fashion and refused to make eye contact with Ron at all. That was understandable. It must have been difficult to be in the house for the first time, even if their parting had been some time ago.

It crossed his mind that perhaps she was just working with him, but what reason would she have for doing so? Snape was not a pleasant man, and, though Remus did not think this would deter the young Gryffindor girl, he could find no purpose for her being under his tutelage. She was under Minerva's, wasn't she? And furthermore, it wasn't just the air of his labs that mingled in her hair. No, it was the scent of a man looking to do much more than study. Remus could smell the oils of the man's skin in her hair and on her skin, as well as the salty tang of testosterone.

Sometimes he hated being a werewolf.

Now that he knew the other man had in some way come into very intimate contact with Hermione, he felt his own testosterone become adrenaline as a wave of protectiveness washed over him. Hermione looked at him with her head cocked to the side as Remus emitted a low, soft growl from the back of his throat. His hair was almost physically bristling as he stepped away from the table.

Confused, she watched the normally docile man stomp away. Her musings were interrupted by Arthur and Molly.

"Well, now, Hermione," said Arthur, joining her at the table. "How have you been this year? Been quite an overabundance of silliness without you around."

"Now, Arthur, don't say things like that. You know very well they just have to let their hair down a bit when they're at home and don't have professors like Minerva and Severus to keep them in line!"

"Very true, my dear. Very true."

"And I'm quite put out," Molly continued, "that neither one came today. Now, I know Severus usually refuses every invitation, but Minerva too!"

"Well, the day isn't over yet," said Hermione. "Perhaps they are busy grading or preparing lessons, and they'll be along for supper."

"I hope so! I have the most glorious ham in the oven, and both of them always look far too skinny! Poor Severus has filled out a little more this year, I don't think the wind will take him away now at least, but I dare say he could gain another stone!"

Hermione repressed a laugh. "If he comes, I think you may find he is taking better care of himself. He seems to have been eating just fine lately. I think things in his life are starting to look up."

"Not having to see He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named on a regular basis will do that, I suppose. Oh! The potatoes!" Molly jumped up from the table and waddled her way into the kitchen to check after the evening meal.

Arthur looked at her kindly. "You really were missed, Hermione. I think I've rather come to look at you as one of my own. I hope you don't mind, but you will be expected to make regular appearances now. No holing up in the castle."

Hermione's heart gave a lurch, knowing the secret she was keeping. Now was not the right time to tell him, but there was no way she could forget. "May I use your piano?" she asked him, knowing she was avoiding the conversation, but needing a way out. This wasn't something she just wanted to drop on the family, and she would rather wait until everyone was here so she only had to try and explain it once.

"By all means," he said, knowing the girl was a little uncomfortable with all the attention. "You're the one who keeps it tuned anyway. Perhaps today you'll let us listen?"

Normally, she kept a Silencing Charm on the piano, not wanting to disturb the household with the loud instrument, but she decided, if Arthur, the man who had given her so much, wanted to hear her, then he would. Most of the castle had heard her now anyway.

"Of course, Arthur, I'd love to. I'll even let you hear me sing. I'm not a good as Ginny, but I'll try."

"We're all just family here, Hermione," Arthur told her.

_If only you knew. _(1)

She played the slowly building melody as the words just tumbled out of her. "'Look at me and tell me who I am. Why I am, what I am. Call me a fool, and it's true I am. I don't know who I am.'"

Every day, new pieces were falling into place in the puzzle of the woman she was becoming. Would she ever know who she truly was? She thought she had, once upon a time.

"'It's such a shame, I'm such a sham. No one knows who I am. Once, there were sweet possibilities I could see, just for me. Now all my dreams are just memories, fated never to be. Time's not a friend, hurrying by. I wonder who am I?'"

So the song wasn't perfect, as many of her dreams, ones she hadn't even acknowledged to herself, were coming true bit by bit. The realization of dreams, the discovery of oneself, each was an ongoing process.

"'Am I the face of the future? Am I the face of the past? Am I the one who must finish last? Look at me and tell me who I am. Why I am what I am. Will I survive? Who will give a damn if no one knows who I am? Nobody knows,'" she sang, looking up at the silent Arthur Weasley in the corner of the now quiet living room. "'Not even you. No one knows who I am…'" She played the ending of the slow and mournful tune.

"Beautiful, Hermione. You have a gift."

"Thank you, but Ginny sings much better," she told him and noticed a few of the family, as well as Tonks and Kingsley, in the doorway watching her. She wondered why she didn't see Ron, then remembered Lorrell was here and decided, whatever he was doing at the time, she didn't want to know. "Well, that's enough of the melancholy. How about something more chipper?"

She was apparently in a cheeky mood, and, being a little reckless, she pulled out not only a tune by Percy Grainger, but one called "Molly on the Shore."

Since first hearing about the connection between their two families, she wondered if Molly was named after the piece. She could just picture a little red-haired Molly running along the Australian shore, sundress blowing in the breeze and the sunshine.

Ron's mother had only been twelve when her grandfather had passed. Hermione had started looking into things to make her own timeline. She wondered how many times they had even met.

She brought her attention back to the audience at hand and began to play. (2) The piece was extremely fast, and Hermione could feel her fingers flying over the keys. Grainger prided himself on not using typical rhythm structures, and she had to completely focus on the music in order to read it correctly as she went.

Knowing it was her grandfather's music, eccentric though he was, Hermione had tried her best to learn it in the way it was intended. Often she had laughed at his notation. He had been notoriously racist and had hated the Italian and German languages, so his score was annotated with phrases like "louden lots bit by bit." It was quite literal but not what she was used to. Eventually, she felt like she had gotten down his style.

She heard the door open but couldn't spare a glance or she would lose her place in the music. She didn't even know if anyone was still listening to her, but not hearing footsteps, Hermione assumed she still had an audience.

The door shut, and presumably the newcomer was listening as well. Placing her bets, and her hopes, that it was Severus, she smiled a little more. Her knight in black robes, come to sweep her away from the Burrow of the red-haired dragons.

The joyful piece played on with its repeated little stanzas and phrases, each one with a different color and pitch, and the canon played by her right and left hands made a jaunty little folk tune.

~~HGSS~~

Just walking up the path to the large, teetering house, he could already hear the music of the piano. He felt like it was a welcome.

He came through the door to find her in the living room, surrounded by everyone he assumed was there. At least, he couldn't think of anyone he couldn't see presently. A few looked in his direction, but mostly they just silently watched Hermione.

Watching her, he felt proud and a bit possessive. This was the woman with such gifts of magic and music who had decided she wanted to be with him. It was a bit heady at times.

Standing in the corner, looking at the crowd, he saw the wolf giving him a glare and motioning him over. Deciding he would rather get whatever discussion over with now, before he made a big entrance – after all, he had only told Hermione he would come, not how long he would stay – Severus made his way over to the man on the other side of the room, who promptly lead him to a vacant, small, boy's bedroom.

"Just what do you think you're doing?" Remus immediately demanded.

"Honoring an invitation. If you don't care for the guest list, perhaps you should leave," Severus smoothly replied.

"You know that isn't what I mean. I have never questioned your presence, Severus. I may not have been a good man in school, but you know damn well that I've tried to make amends. But there are some things even I must question. What are you doing with Hermione?"

Snape's blood froze. He felt as though everything inside him just stopped. His heart quit beating, his lungs stopped taking in air, and his brain froze completely. "I don't know what you mean," he lied.

"Don't give me that. I can smell you on her," Remus growled. Part of him wished Easter had not fallen so close to the full moon when his instincts were highest. The majority of him, however, was focused on getting to the bottom of the current matter at hand, with bloodshed, if needed. No one messed with his pack, especially the unaccompanied women.

Severus mulled over what to tell the angry man. He didn't want to divulge their status before Hermione was ready, but she also saw the wisdom in letting a few people know if it prevented drama in the future.

The other man was continuing to question him. "Did you seduce her? What have you done, Severus? Did you take advantage of her, now that her parents and her boyfriend are out of the way? How long have you been planning this?" Remus stepped forward, cornering Snape as he was being interrogated.

"Remus, listen to me and listen to me carefully for I shall only tell you this once. I have in no way brought Hermione's honor into question, nor shall I do so at any time in the immediate future. However, yes, we are involved with each other. Mutually, agreeably involved. Trust me when I tell you that she can walk away at any time, and even if it crushed me, body and soul, completely," Severus spat at the other man, pushing him away to cover his own humiliating chagrin, "if it would make her happy, I would not refuse her. Anything."

The wolf in Remus growled again, face wrinkling as he smelled the other man, both for information and intimidation. His instincts said Severus was telling the truth, but only a confirmation from Hermione would completely soothe him.

~~HGSS~~

Hermione finished "Molly" and turned, expecting to see Severus, but instead seeing only those who had already come. Tonks was looking down the hall with a nervous expression. Hermione took that to mean that Severus was, in fact, somewhere in the house. Only he could incite that level of tension by his mere presence.

She slowed down again this time, picking a simple Jim Brickman, always her fallback composer when she lacked ideas of what to play. (3) This song, "Sudden Inspiration," was like many of his others in its gentle and simple lyrical phrases and meters.

Wondering when her own sudden inspiration would come, she pondered if Severus was discussing Order business. Had something happened about Voldemort?

Longing for a time when her life wouldn't revolve around such dark themes, she wished things would just go back to the beginning.

Hermione played the repeat in the song, bringing it back to the start as well. If only it were that simple. If only they could…

"Severus!"

The music came to a discordant halt in the middle of a phrase, and she stood up, hearing a crash in the other room as Severus came out with a harried-looking Remus following behind.

"What is it, Hermione?" Severus asked her, unwittingly being familiar in a crowd unused to their easy friendship.

"We have to go!" Hermione ran over to him and grabbed his hand as she heard an indignant Molly behind them exclaiming, "But the ham has just a half hour!"

Dinner was completely forgotten for her, and she pulled him out of the house, tight to her, and Apparated them both back to the castle.

**Teaser:** Severus leaned his head back and felt the pulsing rhythm through his body. He timed the strokes to the rhythm in the room.


	28. Chapter 27

**Author's Note:** I just want to say song one on this list I ADORE, and the second song took me one whole night to find, lol. Tomorrow we find out if it's a boy or a girl and I'm so excited I can't sleep, which is why this is posted early. Anubis Ankh's challenge is completed, and with her blessing, I've sent it to my beta. It may be a few weeks before its posted, as my beta is moving, but look for 'The Challenge.'

Hope you like lemon.

**Playlist: http:/ /www .youtube .com/view_play_list?p=C113FF02736E4844**

**Chapter Twenty Seven**

The private labs of Severus Snape were a hive of activity later that evening when an owl knocked on the window. The professor, recognizing the owl as Vogler, Ginny's owl, opened the window to allow it entry. It flew to Hermione and stuck out its leg, which contained a letter and, upon increasing it to normal size, a rather large parcel.

"Thank you," said Hermione to the owl, giving it a treat from a jar on the shelf. The owl hooted and flew off, apparently not needing a response.

Hermione opened the letter and commented, "It's from Molly."

As she read the lengthy letter, Snape watched her from a misty corner. He supposed he should be glad it was a letter and not a Howler. Undoubtedly, Remus had run his mouth off after they left, informing everyone of his intentions toward Hermione. That, coupled with their familiar and hasty exit, was more than enough to incite the old witch's ire.

She read the letter, lips turning up, and he could only think about this room a few days past, with her on the table, legs wrapped around his waist. The only thing that wanted to occupy his mind was, how had they gotten there, and how did he get back? True, the mature, conservative, Typical Severus part of him told him that he needed to keep things slow so as to not frighten her or bring the wrath of Molly or Minerva down on him. But the devil on his other shoulder reminded him of the feel of the warmth between her legs, the warmth of her delicate hand against his hardness, and her breathy voice in his ear. It reminded him that she was willing and that Minerva was consenting as well. Now, what would Molly say?

Hermione had a smile on her face as she walked over to the basket on the table.

"What did it say?" he asked with apprehension.

Not answering, Hermione pulled the cover off the basket to reveal plates of ham, potatoes, bread, vegetables, and dessert, heated with a Warming Charm. There were even sealed, chilled glasses of milk and juice.

"The letter says that Minerva came to the Burrow shortly after we left, and I guess she heard me screaming at you about a potion for the upcoming battle as I, well, as I dragged you up the walk," said Hermione a bit sheepishly. She really had been screaming in her excitement. "Molly says she was upset we had to leave, but under the circumstances it couldn't be avoided. When Minerva told the crowd what we were doing, Remus suggested she send along some fortifications. Which look amazing, I might add. And what were you two talking about anyhow?"

Snape shifted on his feet and looked past her at the ingredients on the far shelf. "Remus knows."

"Well, apparently. Minerva told everyone."

"Remus knows about us," he clarified.

"Oh," Hermione told him. "I hadn't realized you two were friends."

"We're not. Remus…he…the wolf in him smelled me on you."

"Oh," she repeated. He could _smell_ Severus on her? That was kind of…exciting. She ran her thighs together as she sat on a nearby stool. "I take it he wasn't happy? I noticed that he was bothered by something after I talked with him, but I had no idea."

"No, he wasn't pleased. He asked what my intentions were for you, ready to defend you if I was taking advantage. I doubt anyone could take advantage of you. I informed him that was not the case, and then we heard you in the living room."

"What did you tell him? About me?"

"Still an insufferable know-it-all," he told her disagreeably. "I simply told him that you were here of your own free will, and I would do nothing to stand in your way should you choose to leave…or stay."

Hermione knew enough about him to read between the lines. She could imagine what he had told Remus. Walking over to him, she said, "Severus?"

"Hmm?" he replied, looking down at her.

"You're a good man." Her eyes fluttered closed as she kissed him again. Kisses he would never grow bored with. How could he? He felt as though he had twenty years of his life to catch up on, and he was making strides day by day, strides with Hermione.

He leaned into the kiss a little more, taking it a little further as he opened his mouth to her, which she immediately took advantage of.

She had him pushed against the back shelves before she suddenly pulled away, ignoring his groan. "Oh, I'm sorry! I forgot you wanted to take it slow. Sorry, sometimes I just get carried away. I shouldn't keep pushing. Here, let's eat before everything gets cold." She hastily backed away, leaving him leaning against the wall for support, with his lower half feeling spitefully neglected. He gasped a little for air and watched the little witch's face fall, then redden in embarrassment as she set out the plates and silverware.

Perplexed that he could invoke that strong of a reaction in her but realizing the moment was gone, he vowed to speak with her before the next one came around and sat on the other side of the table to partake in the feast laid out for them.

"So," he said, after carefully swallowing, "you explained a bit about your idea on the way in, but I confess, much of it I couldn't comprehend. What, exactly, is you idea?"

"Well," she hedged. It had seemed so simple, so perfect when it had first sprung into her mind. "I was playing a song, and it had a repeat. This brought the song right back to the beginning, and I started thinking how it would be so nice if we could do the same. Just bring everything back to where we started. I, of course, was thinking about when I first arrived at Hogwarts and met Harry and Ron, before we knew the true danger of Voldemort. But then I started thinking about Voldemort and _entia non sunt multiplicanda praeter necessitatem_, you know? The principle that 'entities must not be multiplied beyond necessity' and the conclusion thereof, that the simplest explanation or strategy tends to be the best one."

"Occam's razor, yes, carry on."

"Well, what if we did that to Voldemort?"

"Did what?"

"Brought him back to his beginning," she explained. "Severus, what if we made him strictly human again?"

"That's….but…how could that possibly occur?"

"With a potion. A reversal of the one he took that night in the graveyard. Harry said the words were:

'_Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son.  
Flesh of the servant, willingly given, you will revive your master.  
Blood of the enemy, forcibly taken, you will resurrect your foe.'_ (GoF)

So, what if we do the opposite?"

"Hermione, forget anytime I insulted you for being a swot."

"I'd rather not. I'd have to forget an awful lot about you," she said with an impish grin as he leaned across the table to kiss her. "So, what do you think?"

"I think it's a better idea than anything else we've had, and it seems based in logic. How do you propose we alter it?"

"Well, it would have to be bone of the mother, knowingly given; flesh of the master, unwillingly given; blood of a friend, willingly taken, wouldn't it?"

He set his fork down next to his empty plate as he considered her words."You certainly don't ask for much, do you?"

"Don't look at me, I didn't plan this!" she said, dabbing a piece of her roll into her potatoes before popping it into her mouth.

He watched her fingers trace her mouth, momentarily forgetting the conversation. Eventually, he found focus and asked her how they were going to come by the ingredients they needed.

"We have a few options, I think. And we have to figure out a potion to use for a base, but I think I've got that already."

"You do?" he said, with his characteristic eyebrow.

Hermione led him from the lab to his library and pulled out one of the books he had seen her reading before.

The chess set, which had taken up permanent residence in Snape's quarters as this was where they met now, tottered to one edge to watch the excited witch. While it was true Hermione didn't get to play with them as much as either would have liked, the set was enjoying their new home, always on display and free to watch the action around them. They had watched as the man and woman became more involved with each other during their lazy, book-filled nights by his fire, just as they now watched his hungry eyes follow her backside as she led the way across the plush carpeted stone and the graceful arch of her back as she reached up his bookshelf.

She sat on his ottoman as she flipped through the large pages to find the one she was looking for. This book was old, bound in dark green leather with gold leaf on the cover. The pages were full of archaic spells and ancient, colored ink drawings depicting potions at different phases in their preparation or the results of certain concoctions. Turning the yellowed parchment carefully but quickly, she finally found the one she was searching for.

She handed the book to him, and he looked at the name and the symbol of a snake forming a circle, eating its own tail. "The Ouroboros Potion? This is an obscure branch of magic not often seen in this day and age. It was used to undo magical mistakes in spell casting mostly, occasionally in potions."

"Exactly. Since we know how he altered the previous potion, we know what to do to undo it, and this can be the catalyst."

He looked at her in shock. Occam's razor. It was so simple. Just undo what had been done. How had he never thought of this?

"I'm not surprised it's never crossed your mind. You had enough things to worry about. Sometimes, you can focus so hard you can't see the forest for the trees. So, the ingredients. What do you think? Bone of the mother, flesh of the master, blood of a friend. I'll admit I haven't gotten that far yet."

"You mean the entire thing isn't planned now that you've had the idea for an hour or two?"

She glared at him.

He took a seat in the chair behind the ottoman on which she was still perched. She was cute in a snit.

"Well, the friend will be easy," he told her.

"It will? I thought that was going to be the hardest," she confided. "I can't think of a single friend."

"I can." He walked back into the lab, and Hermione heard him rummaging through a few of the jars before returning with a fairly large, capped vial with a dark red liquid inside. "It was even willingly given."

She gave him a questioning look as he handed her the vial.

"Nagini," he stated. "I have venom as well. I crafted an antidote to the snake some time ago as I was going to be working in close range of her. I kept the blood on hand also, telling Voldemort I would be able to craft him a potion to increase his strength. Which, obviously, never happened."

"Brilliant! But what about mother and master? Do we even know where his mother is buried?"

He shook his head. "No. As far as we know, she passed at the orphanage shortly after giving birth. That would be a place to try."

"And if we don't find her, maybe there is another option." Hermione looked apprehensively at him. "You know, I've traced Harry's family tree for him. He's related to Voldemort through the Perevells, we figure because of his cloak. The only thing I can think of is to ask Harry for a bone from his mother."

Snape looked at her, horrified.

"I know! I know, trust me. But it's not like we can say, 'Excuse me, Dark Lord? Where is your mother, and can we borrow a femur?' I can't imagine he would mind, or that she would mind, if part of her remains went towards helping us kill Voldemort."

"Perhaps," he said slowly, "perhaps it is worth a try."

"And I'll look into trying to find the grave of his mother," she offered. "I think you should be the one to ask Harry." She watched him go from astounded to angry to defiant. "Hear me out. He knows we're together, but he's only talked to me. I think it would be a huge offering of peace if you were willing to talk to him about this, Severus. He's grown up a bit. And, well, it's an issue more between the two of you than me."

He worked him jaw before answering. "I will consider it."

She leaned into him and gave him a quick kiss. "That's all I can ask. Who do we think will work for flesh of the master? Harry? They are linked, and Harry managed to defeat him."

"Or Dumbledore," said Snape. "He is the one person Voldemort would never openly defy, whether when he was a student or after."

"True," Hermione conceded. She looked to him gravely. "Would you be able to get into Dumbledore's tomb?" She looked pained. "I hate to ask you, and I'd do it if I could, but I can't break through the enchantments."

Sorrowfully, he answered, "Yes, I know how to break them."

"We'll go together," she offered. "You can break the enchantments, and I'll get what we need. I can get a sample from Harry too."

He nodded, still contemplating what it was they were about to do. Robbery of Lily and Albus' graves, theft of a sample of flesh from Potter, and communication with the boy on his part. He couldn't think of much else that could make this potion worse.

She took his hands in hers, feeling the cold alabaster skin. "We can do this," Hermione said. "If anyone can do it, we can. Together." Standing, she wrapped her arms around him while he still sat in the chair, their heights now almost even. Once again, he was distracted by her closeness. Her smell, the feel of her breasts, the curve of her neck. Would today's torture never end?

"I'll see you tomorrow, okay? We've had a long day. And maybe this weekend we can get started gathering everything. You alright?"

"Yes, Hermione. I'm fine," he answered, not entirely knowing if it was true, but there was no sense in making her worry over something that couldn't be controlled.

"Relax tonight," she told him. "I've asked my set to play a bit for you. Take some time for yourself, okay?"

She left then, with another quick kiss goodbye, and he found himself alone.

~~HGSS~~

A quarter of an hour after Hermione left his chambers, Snape was seated in the dark wingback chair. (1) The atmosphere had changed. Gone was the frenzied excitement and scholarly air that had surrounded Hermione after they had returned from the Burrow. The chess set was in its corner, out of view, but he could hear the soft crescendos of a lyric melody. He listened to the woodwinds as they seemed to understand his discontent and frustration. The horns and cymbals encouraged him to let it go and make himself comfortable.

As the music played, it found him more and more relaxed. He swirled half a glass of Firewhiskey in his hand as the music swirled in the room, longing, questioning.

His black jacket hung open, revealing the white shirt Hermione was so fond of underneath. Even the top several buttons of the shirt were undone as well. He sat in concentration, staring at the fire. He watched the undulating flames, the tease of the lick of their fire, the curve of their nape, reminding him of her.

He groaned a little as he felt himself respond, his blood rushing and his skin tightening as he thought of her heart-shaped bottom pushing out while she bent low in front of his bookshelf.

Hesitating momentarily, he slowly undid the buttons of his trousers. He had never thought of a student before, but Hermione wasn't just a student. She was becoming his, as he was already hers. Her other half.

Setting down his glass with a tinkle of ice cubes, he brought his fingers up to his face and felt it as she would, fingertips ghosting over his forehead, his eyebrow, gently brushing over a closed eye and down his warming cheeks. He felt the bridge of his nose, which she was so fond of, felt the curve of his lips, and imagined her pressed against him as he gave his fingers a light kiss.

One hand skated across his chest, thinking of Hermione with a seductress' gleam in her brown eyes as she laid kisses on him and gently licked his nipples. The other hand opened his trousers further and brought himself out, half erect. He gently stroked the soft skin, bringing the folds up around the tip, feeling the length grow with each pass.

His breathing became shallower the harder he became. Soon it felt like a rod beneath his fingers, and he heard the music change. (2) The alluring sax of the jazz number did nothing to quell his desire. In fact, he ached as he heard the first line of the song.

A smoky, sweet duet reached him, "'Just you take your time. Just you take your time.'"

Did she know that he was going to think of her tonight? That the fire she had ignited would not be banked and, for tonight, would be allowed to burn freely?

"'Do you remember when we used to take our time?'" the sultry female sang. "'You'd write me a letter, baby, and I'd wait for you all night. Now I see everyone rushin' around, includin' you and I. I wanna take a little time just to fall in love again.'"

Severus leaned his head back and felt the pulsing rhythm through his body. He timed the strokes to the rhythm in the room. His thumb swiped the tip of the head, finding the bead of moisture there, using it to aid the glide of his hand as his free hand toyed with the hanging sack underneath.

"'Cause they're tellin' me just you take your time. No hurry, baby. Just you take your time.'"

In his mind, it was Hermione telling him to take his time. In his mind, she was standing between him and the fire, the light outlining her silhouette in a soft negligee. She gave him a slow spin as she faced away from him, reached up as she bent over, giving him a delicious view of her sweet, apple bum and the core underneath.

His eyelids fluttered closed, and his breathing became harsh. His hand tightened around himself as he bit his bottom lip, wanting to stall his climax as badly as he wanted to cum.

"'When I think about yesterday, everythin' was easy, everythin' was okay. Now, everythin' is goin' fast, you're the best thing I ever had. Oh, and losin' you, oh, make me, make me, that would make me feel so bad, hey, hey.'"

Everything had been accelerating between them, emotionally and physically. He knew she cared about him. Severus saw the looks she gave him, tinged with a hint of passion as she sucked her bottom lip. The way she kissed him. He loved her soft, sweet kisses. If that was all he was to ever know, he would die a better man for it.

"'Would you help me say? Just you take your time. Just you take your time. Seein' y'all can take it slow. I'm inclined to agree 'cuz ain't nobody livin' can try to hurry me.'"

Did she do this? Did she lie under her covers at night and think of him as she touched herself? He spread his legs apart to give him more space, and the sound of flesh against flesh could be heard as he imagined her soft whimpers.

"'Oh, just you take your time, just you take your time, woman.'"

_Mmm, yes, take your time_, he thought as he imagined her on her knees in front of him. He held back her hair as she gave him a wicked grin and lowered her lips to his waiting cock. He gasped out loud thinking of her tongue snaking out to lick him and her warm breath against his balls as she reached up to cup him with her delicate hand.

"'Just you take your time. There's no rush in it, baby. Just you. All the time in the world for you, baby.'"

The music changed again, and this time the piano reminded him so much of her. A breathy, feminine voice called out to him, telling him, "'Like a flower waiting to bloom. Like a light bulb in a dark room, I'm just sitting here waiting for you to come on home and turn me on.'"

A series of images went through his mind as though he were swirling through a Pensieve.

He pictured a look of surprise on Hermione's face as he came up behind her and pressed his waiting erection against her. He slid his hand up her calf, up the skirt she was wearing, and Nimue, she had no knickers on.

He pictured her in his study, legs draped over his chair and only her hair visible over the large book in her lap.

He pictured her straddling him, and he could almost feel the warmth of her center waiting for him as she grabbed his hair tight, pulling his head to her as he kissed her jaw line and worked his way to her soft breasts.

"'My hi-fi is waiting for a new tune. My glass is waiting for some fresh ice cubes. I'm just sitting here waiting for you to come on home, and turn me on, turn me on.'"

He pictured Hermione naked, lying on his bed with her belly full with his child. He pictured the two of them, arm-in-arm as they walked into the Great Hall and to the High Table. He picture a curly black-haired child running up to her crying, "Mama!"

He pictured her beneath him, crying out his name – _his_ name – as she came while he pounded deep into her, cradling her in his arms, and that's when he couldn't take it.

The sweat glistened on his face as he took a firm grip on his scrotum, feeling it draw closer to his body. A deep rumble came from Severus' chest, and his long black hair lay lank against his flushed face. His fist pumped harder and harder as he felt the bliss spread from his groin through his whole body, down his limbs, curling his toes. He was picturing her, his Hermione, as she cried out in unison with him. His moan could be heard as he felt his penis jerk underneath his fingers, as the hot liquid formed a fountain, squirting a little before dribbling down his white fingers. Panting hard, he groaned, imaging finishing inside her, feeling her weight in his lap and his hands on her waist as he pushed into her again and again, the tip of himself becoming too sensitive in the aftermath of his orgasm.

He lay against the chair, spent, and imagined her in his lap, also spent, leaning her full weight against him and breathing heavily in his ear as she wrapped her arms around him.

With a little chuckle, he wondered if it was as good for her as it had been for him.

Feeling a little dirty, he Summoned a handkerchief – her handkerchief – and used it to clean up the pool now cooling against his stomach and that which still clung to his hand.

The chess set now back to its regularly scheduled program, the piano played slowly, trailing up his bare flesh as he slowly stripped off his clothes in preparation for sleep. (4) There would be no dressing gown tonight. He wanted to feel the cool sheets against his searing skin, and he savored the song of his sweet seductress.

A few of the images that had come to his mind tonight gave him pause, but he would think on them later. He was currently otherwise, agreeably, engaged.

Tonight, sleep came swift, as did he.

~~HGSS~~

There were no classes that Monday morning, so Hermione allowed herself a lie in, once again alone in the seventh year girls' dormitory.

She should have pushed for her own rooms when she returned this year, citing her unique position, but, alas, hindsight was 20/20.

At breakfast that morning, she strolled in late. Professor Snape was still there, sitting slightly apart from the rest of the crowd, finishing the rest of his breakfast. She gave it hardly a thought as she sat next to him and started making a plate.

Perhaps it was just her, but he seemed tense this morning, almost flinching when her foot found his under the table and she wrapped hers around his leg. She would just have to work on him and train him not to be startled that she wanted to touch him.

Breakfast was starting to cool since she had kept to her bed longer than usual, so she ate quickly. Hermione almost gave him a kiss as she left, but instead opted for quickly stroking his back as she passed behind him.

The rest of the students would be arriving that afternoon on the train, and she wanted to enjoy her last few hours of solitude until the end of the semester. She had a lot on her mind with the new potion. Hoping that asking Severus to talk to Harry had been a good idea, she wondered if she should warn Harry.

And she had to get a sample of his flesh. And rob Dumbledore's grave. And find where Merope Riddle was buried in case Harry's mum didn't work.

That was morbid, but what else could be expected of a potion that would weaken Voldemort?

The large throng of returning Gryffindors found Hermione in a chair, stroking Crookshanks, as she worked on her knitting.

Her four closest friends stood in a crowd around her, all talking at once in their excitement to see her.

"Hold on! Hold on! I understand a lot of things, but not all at once. Harry, go first."

"Tonks told us that Molly told her that McGonagall saw you dragging Snape up the walk babbling on about a potion to defeat Voldemort! Is it true, Hermione? Do you think you've found a way to defeat him?"

She hedged a bit, motioning for them all to sit and casting a nonverbal Muffliato – one good thing that had come from the Half-Blood Prince.

Looking at Ron, Hermione was puzzled for a moment. Was she considered a half-blood? What did one call the child of a Muggle and a Squib? She was having a severe identity crisis.

Regaining her focus, she answered them. "Not defeat him exactly. Weaken him. For the past few weeks, Professor Snape and I – oh, stop it, Ronald – have been trying to level the playing field. Harry, you know you're going to have to be the one to cast the final spell."

Harry nodded, that part of his life weighing heavier and heavier on him as each dawn brought the day closer.

"But that doesn't mean we can't give you as much help as we can along the way, right? Right now, Voldemort –oh, _stop it,_ Ron – is well-nigh invincible. We've been trying to change that or to bolster Harry."

"Snape's been trying to help me?"

Hermione smacked her friend on the arm. "He's been helping you all your life, Harry. Even when he resented you, he was still protecting you. That hasn't changed."

"Why does Snape protect him?" Lorrell questioned.

"He used to be in love with Harry's mum," Hermione told her, not getting into all the details.

"But, he isn't anymore?" Harry asked.

Hermione flushed a little and shook her head. "I don't think so."

"Oh," said Harry. "Right."

Ron wrinkled his nose. "What? Has he found himself a girlfriend then? Can you imagine being with that bat?"

"He's with me, Ron," Hermione blurted, covering her mouth as soon as the words left it.

Ron's eyes grew wide with shock and his mouth looked like a fish as Lorrell looked on with glee.

"Really? That's so exciting! It was the blouse, wasn't it? I knew you looked fabulous!"

"You knew about this?" Ron asked his girlfriend.

"Oh, don't act all surprised," Hermione said, exasperated. "I've been spending time with him all year; you knew we had dinner together and that I was there to help him recover when he was attacked. This isn't new, and it isn't just some passing schoolgirl crush, so get over yourself and deal with it."

This time, Harry's eyes were wide as Hermione lambasted their friend. Not that he didn't deserve it. Ron really could be a prat.

"Well, so that's how it is then, Hermione?"

"Yes, Ron. That's how it is."

"Alright then," said Ron.

"Alright?" Hermione practically shrieked. "Alright? That's all you have to say? I tell you I'm dating, being physically intimate with, your most hated professor, and you don't even care?"

"Well, of course I care!" Ron told her. "But, look, you were great when I started seeing Lorrell, even if I was a bit of a berk about it." Lorrell rubbed Ron's arm in comfort. "And I know you didn't understand why I did it, right? And I don't know why you're with that git…with Snape. Professor Snape. But, like you said, you've been friendly all year, and you haven't hexed him into next week, and he hasn't hexed you yet either, so something must be working, yeah? Just…just don't give me details about when you two are alone, alright? Bloke's gotta eat, 'Mione. And I have to see him in class."

Hermione flung herself on Ron, tumbling Crookshanks to the floor, not caring who saw her display of emotion. After she calmed down and apologized for her outburst, she asked what it was that Ron was trying to tell her when he had first came in.

"Lorrell can stay! We told Mum and Dad all about it, and they told Lorrell that if she wanted to stay at the Burrow over the summer until things got settled, she'd be welcome to. She still has to talk to her mum, of course, but her mum and sister would be welcome to come visit. Mum and Dad are fixing up the house, I guess, and adding on a new wing. Say they'll need it now, what with Bill getting married and the rest of us getting older."

Hermione smiled, knowing that her parents' money was being put to good use helping out her newfound family.

Everything really was a circle, beginning leading to ending leading to beginning.

**Teaser:** Hermione was nervously standing just in front of the door in nothing but one of his white shirts, which mercifully hung to her mid-thigh.


	29. Chapter 28

**A/N: **For those curious, my ultrasound was fantastic and we're having a little boy. Ryan Alexander. He was very shy, only sharing this fact for 30sec of the hour, but we're very happy he did. May the shopping commence!

**Chapter Twenty Eight**

"Are you ready then?"

The spring morning was chilly but clear with dew on the grass as she met her professor in the main hallway of Hogwarts. The students were mostly still sleeping this early on a Saturday, and the couple were hoping to escape the castle unnoticed.

"Yes, I'm ready," Hermione told him. She had dressed for the occasion in Muggle denims and an old sweater from Molly that was starting to run a little small so that if something happened to it, it would be no great loss. She had her old trainers on, and she had jars and bags in her pack with gloves, a trowel, and all manner of things they might need.

"Have you spoken with Harry?"

Suddenly, his shoe became very important. He paused for a moment before answering. "No."

Hermione sighed, exasperated. "Severus, if you don't talk to him before we leave, then there will be no way it will be willingly given. Come on, I'll go rouse him out of the dormitory."

He sheepishly followed her down the hall until they came upon a few third year girls in the hallway. Then, he straightened his posture, glaring down at the girls until they passed, as though Miss Granger were the one in trouble. After the girls were out of sight, she glared at him and his ego, and he resumed his previous slouch.

Waiting outside the portrait, he and the Fat Lady sized each other up as Hermione spoke the password and disappeared inside. She returned shortly with a sleepy Gryffindor still adjusting his glasses.

"What is this about, Herm-oh. Hello, Professor."

"Potter."

She gave them both a weary look as they just awkwardly stared at each other. With a roll of her eyes, it was obvious she was going to have to get them started. "Harry, Professor Snape has something he needs to talk with you about, okay? It's about the potion we discussed. Severus, I'll be down the hallway when you've finished."

She grabbed something out of the side of her bag and, quick as a flash, stabbed Harry's arm just below his elbow, before discreetly dropping her sample and the tool in a jar.

"OW! Hermione! That hurt!"

"Sorry, Harry."

"What are you doing? You took skin! Look at this!" he demanded, turning his arm over. "There's a chunk missing!"

"Don't worry about it. Severus, take your time."

And with that, she turned on her heel and left them. They would have to learn to speak to one another at some point, and that might as well be now.

As she strolled down the hall toward the main entrance, she noticed a familiar figure following her.

"What can I do for you, sir?"

"Ah, Miss Granger. Oh, nothing. I just thought I heard you and Severus pass this way, and I figured I'd seen how you were this morning."

Hermione smiled. "There is a much more interesting conversation happening in front of the Fat Lady."

"Oh?"

"Severus is talking to Harry."

"Is he now? That's wonderful!" the painted headmaster interrupted.

"Not exactly. He has to ask Harry if we can get a bone from his mother's grave."

"Oh, dear. Possibly not a conversation I want to listen in on. And why must you do this?"

Hermione continued her path down the hallway as she heard an indignant voice behind her yell, "What?" She cringed and told Dumbledore, "It's for a potion that will possibly weaken Voldemort. We're undoing what has been done, and I figured, under the circumstances, they had best talk to each other rather than through me."

She paused to listen, but no more hollering could be heard down the hallway. She figured Harry had calmed down now and was actually listening to what Severus was telling him.

"I believe you're right."

They both watched apprehensively as Snape came down the staircase, alone but unharmed. He held no expression on his face as he came up to Hermione.

"Shall we?"

"We shall. Good day, Headmaster," said Hermione.

"And to you both," the portrait replied and watched the young man and woman as they continued down the hall and out of the castle.

She waited until they had exited the front door and were heading across the large expanse of green- and brown-mottled lawn before inquiring. "Well?"

"We have his permission."

"And? You can't just leave it there. Did he seem okay with it? Was he angry? Was he upset with you?"

Snape sighed as he looked to her, a little out of place in the spring sunshine in his long black jacket and teaching robe. Hermione hoped he planned on stowing it away once they were out of view of the castle.

"He was…as to be expected. No. I suppose that isn't correct. He was as you expected. Better than I expected him to be."

"Straight answers, please."

He gave her a glare and strode along the grass towards the white tomb. "He was…obviously concerned when you first left. I explained to him the issue and informed him that he shouldn't be so surprised that this has come to pass. It seems all of this is formed around his mother," he said in a wry voice, causing Hermione to look at him questioningly, but she decided not to inquire. Perhaps he had thought about what she told him before. Maybe now he was finding a new definition for love, friendship, and acceptance.

"Potter," he continued, "conceded this fact. He informed me that whatever we needed to vanquish Voldemort was fine by him, and he thanked me for speaking with him."

As she often had to with Severus, she read between the lines. Harry had probably become emotional when speaking of his mother and her death. Hermione could also picture Harry honestly thanking Severus, showing him a side of the Potters he had not seen before. Harry was quite humble, all things considered, and perhaps Severus would now see that he had his mother's compassion. He just didn't take well to being bullied, as was what normally occurred between the two of them.

"Good. I'm glad you spoke with him. I'm sure it meant a lot."

He just grunted.

They approached the tomb with a sense of awe. Even though almost a year had passed, it was still surreal and in a way, magnificent. The solitary white tomb was adorned with no great statue or mausoleum. No wall or carpet of flowers could be seen. Merely a plaque with the name of its occupant and a short message, but still, Hermione could feel the tingle of magic as she approached, both from the protections cast and the inherent magic.

"Stay here," he told her. "I'll make it so you may enter."

Hermione stood where she was and watched as he demonstrated a rather elegant bit of foolish wand waving. He waved her over, and she noticed the tingle on her skin had diminished.

Severus moved aside and watched as she stepped onto the first step. He turned away, not wanting to witness the desecration of his mentor's body. He had done enough. Even if he was sure Albus wouldn't mind, he still felt wrong.

In fact, he had never been down here to the tomb. He had never paid his respects, and he had obviously not been present at the funeral.

Then he became aware of the noises behind him.

Amongst her groans, Hermione managed to spit out, "Severus…I need your help…it's…too heavy."

He looked over his shoulder to see her pressing with all her might against the large stone lid.

It hadn't given an inch.

He had forgotten that he had not removed the theft charm from the lid, which only allowed certain wizards entrance. With a sigh, he backed up, leaned against the corner with his rear, and pushed, moving aside the lid without having to look inside.

"It's okay," she said softly. "He's wrapped. Can you move it just a little more please?"

The top slid a few more inches.

"Thank you."

He heard her reach in and rustle around the fabric. After a deep sigh, she rooted around in her pack until she brought out the garden shears. Gently as she could, she stepped up to the edge.

She kept his face covered – some memories she didn't need – and brought out a white hand, very nearly perfectly preserved.

For some reason, that made her stomach churn more.

With a sickening slice, she chopped off a filet of flesh from Dumbledore's forearm. Lamenting that she had forgotten to put on gloves, she held it by two fingers while her other hand went back in her pack, digging for a jar or vial. Finding a large vial, she quickly stuffed the severed slice into it, capped it, tossed it into the bag, and ran toward the lake.

At the sound of her retreating footsteps, Severus turned to watch as Hermione fertilized the grass with her breakfast. She was holding her stomach and crying as he approached her with soft footsteps, letting her have her peace if she wanted, but supporting her with his presence.

After she was only dry heaving, she cast a discreet and nonverbal mouth cleansing charm and wiped her eyes on her robe sleeve, before turning to hug him. Severus gathered her close until her chest was no longer heaving and her tears had dried.

He had not realized how difficult this would be for her.

"Well," she said slightly shakily, "one down, one to go. I assume you know where we are going?"

He admired his brave little witch as she straightened her robes and grasped him around the waist. Silently, he Apparated them to the outskirts of a little cemetery in what Hermione assumed was Godric's Hollow. It appeared to be a small village. She could see a few two-story houses down the dirt lane, but she could only hear the birds and the rustle of the large trees shading the stones of the deceased.

"Just wait here," Hermione told him softly. She left him at the edge of the rows of tombs and wove her way to the headstones of her best friend's parents.

As she found the twin stones, so silent and proud, she knelt beside them with a few tears in her eyes.

"Hello," she whispered. "I'm Harry's friend, Hermione. I wish we could have met you both." She hesitated before continuing. "I'm sorry come here under such circumstances, but I'm afraid we need something from you, Mrs. Potter. We need to undo the potion that Voldemort created. He's back, you see, and Harry has to defeat him, and Professor Snape and I, well, Severus and I, we're trying to help him. Severus has helped him Harry's whole life," Hermione said as a tear streaked its way down her cheek. "I just wanted you to know that. He hasn't always been kind, but when Voldemort returned, Severus kept Harry safe.

"He turned, you know, to the side of the Light. To the Order. He's been spying for twenty years now. Only, he can't anymore, but that's okay, because we're getting close to defeating Voldemort. For good this time. Anyway," she continued in a shaky voice, "Harry has lots of friends, and he's ready for this. We…we need a bone from you, Mrs. Potter. We've talked to Harry about it and got his consent first. But…but I just wanted you to know. Why, I mean."

Hermione used a spell she had found in her research that slowly shifted the dirt off the coffin and into a pile as though tossed by a snow blower. In a few minutes' time, she could see the brown coffin lid. Soon she had enough room for her to slide down the dirt wall and stand next to the coffin.

Sardonically pleased that she had no stomach contents left, she tried to push from her mind what she was about to do.

This was going to be really unpleasant.

Holding her breath, she quickly lifted the lid. Inside, nestled in the white fabric, dressed in a yellow sundress, was a girl only a few years older than herself.

Lily Potter was also almost perfectly preserved.

Thankfully, in Hermione's twisted brain, she still at least looked deceased. She didn't think she could do it if some part of her was waiting for Harry's mum to open her eyes.

"Again, I'm really sorry for this."

Prepared this time, Hermione slid gloves on her hands and held a jar between her knees as she bent down. Grasping one of Lily's slender wrists, there was a soft crunch as she removed a pinky finger straight into the jar.

Hermione gently put the hand back in its place and took a morbid moment to study the woman's face.

"He loved you, you know, in his own way. I think the best he could then. He's moved on now, but it took a while. He and Harry are making amends now as well. We'll do our best to keep him safe, Mrs. Potter."

Hermione climbed out of the grave, feeling less ill this time but infinitely filthier. Making quick work of restoring the grave to order, she put the jar in her bag – not looking at it too closely – and slung the pack over a shoulder.

As she walked back toward the man wringing his hands as he paced impatiently, she looked over her shoulder to the headstones once more. "I'll do my best to keep _him_ as well."

Walking a little straighter, she greeted her man by taking his hand. "Take me home?"

"Gladly." And he Apparated them both back to the castle.

~~HGSS~~

It was still early in the morning when they returned to the castle. Seeing no one, Snape quickly ushered them both down into the dungeon.

Back in his rooms, Hermione cast a Stasis spell on each container and placed the four specimens in a cupboard out of sight. Just putting them there had her shaking again.

The blood of Nagini. The flesh of Harry. The flesh of Dumbledore. The bone of Lily Potter.

They had enough for a trial run, and if needed, she would find Merope's grave as well.

Hermione thought about how long she had been dead.

She _really_ didn't want to go to another grave.

Professor Snape came around the corner to see Hermione's last shudder as she shut the cupboard door.

Wobbling a little as she stood, she apologized. "It's just been a really rough morning. I'll go now, I suppose. I need to take a bath before I meet Filch for the day." She looked down at herself, for the first time really taking in her muddy denims and elbows. She imagined she had dirt on her face as well. Resigning herself, she said, "I just hope no one sees me."

Snape took in her truly haggard appearance and offered, "You may bathe here if you like…"

She jerked her eyes to his, and he worried the edges of his robe.

"Um, okay. That'd be great. If you don't mind."

"I don't mind."

"Do you have anything for, you know…" Hermione made a motion around her bushy curls.

He smirked at her in the way she loved. "I believe I can find something. If not, I'll brew it up while you bathe, and it will be completed before you finish."

"Thank you. My parents were always pretty strict on hygiene of teeth and hair. Speaking of…"

She walked to him, placing one hand on each side of his head. She stroked his cheek tentatively before loudly proclaiming, "_Rectus_!"

Suddenly, Snape's head burst into stars and felt as though she had cast Cruciatus on his face.

"What…the fuck…did you do?"

"Sorry," she said. "It doesn't usually hurt that much. You must've really had a lot to fix. Open up and let me see."

He didn't really open his mouth so much as he just stood gaping at her. "You fixed my _teeth_?" He tentatively bit down on the only slightly tender jaw. "My teeth?" he repeated. "For Circe's sake, Hermione, if you had a problem with my appearance, you could have just said something! I know I am not an attractive man. I never have been. I never will be. But I'm willing to try something if you just fucking ask! That's the only reason I tied back my hair! And it's not as if I say anything…now…about your imperfections! I've said nothing about your buck teeth or your vexing, vociferous, vast vibrissa or your…your…anything!"

"Are you quite finished?" she snapped.

He growled at her, trying to reign in his fury at her impertinence, clutching his fists hard.

"You are a stupid man sometimes. If I had a problem with your teeth, I would have done more than just straighten them! You look fine to me. I think you are very handsome. In fact, there are days in class I have to sit on my hands to stop myself from just reaching out and touching you, Severus." She stepped closer to him, bravely, and laid her hands against his chest. "Your left first molars and right lateral incisors didn't align. I simply fixed your malocclusion. Now, they will be easier to clean so you can keep them healthy. Also, I noticed you grind your teeth. Did your jaw hurt? I was wondering if you had a temporomandibular joint disorder. This should help that. Sorry I didn't do it sooner, but I just forgot. It's less likely you'll break a tooth now too. I hope you can forgive me."

Again she looked at him with her big brown eyes, and he released his tension. He worked his jaw a few times, feeling the strangeness that was his teeth. "Just say something next time."

"There had better not be a next time. I'm going to go run a bath, okay? You can get your revenge by brewing something for my, what did you call it? Vibrissa? I will have you know I was only a cat briefly, and my hair is in no way straight like whiskers!"

"Kia," he grumbled at her.

"Git!" she hollered back over her shoulder as she quickly jumped with a giggle to avoid the sparks he shot at her from the tip of his wand.

She poked her head into his bathroom with apprehension, an irrational part of waiting for the stroke of lightening. Hermione had never been in there outside of the once, when she had found out she was Ron's cousin. Well, second cousin. Still too close. And when she had been in there, she had obviously been too distracted to snoop.

Gaining confidence, she stepped inside. The interior looked like the other bathrooms in the school. Creamy marble tile greeted her, with a shower and commode to one side, a large garden-style tub to the other, and a single basin set into a large counter.

"Well, aren't you a sight for sore eyes."

Hermione looked up to see the mirror speaking to her.

"My, you are a teeny thing aren't you? And filthy too. Well, get scrubbed up then. I'll be waiting here when you finish."

"Um, thank you," Hermione said.

After a moment, the mirror piped up again. "Well, get on with it then. I don't know about him, but I'm not going to bite you. I don't know how you found yourself in here, Missy, but you had better just get washed up then."

Chastised, Hermione began running the hot water.

As the tub filled, she took the opportunity to pick up the items on his counter. Everything was pretty typical and as she expected, right down to the handful of potions in unlabeled jars. She sniffed each in succession, identifying a few, such as his aftershave, but she was completely clueless as to the purpose of the others.

When the tub was filled, she gingerly stepped into the hot water and relaxed against the marble side. The tub was big enough that she could stretch out her legs completely. It didn't compare to the expanse of the prefect's bathroom, or the Head Girl's, but it was far more superior to what she had expected.

She grabbed his soap and began to wash away the dirt and the stress. As she bathed her arms, Hermione got a strong whiff of the scent.

She was going to be walking around the castle smelling of Severus. She almost mewled at the thought. Just washing herself with his soap between her legs, knowing where it had been, was an extreme turn on.

Soon, she found herself with shampoo in her hair, gently playing with her folds in Severus' giant bathtub. She flung a leg over the side and decided to indulge in the moment. She had had a horrific morning, and the afternoon was going to be spent with Filch. Sometimes, you just need to take a moment for yourself.

And what better place than in his tub?

Laying her head against the side, she slipped a finger into her warm wetness, different from the water around her. She breathed deeply, letting the scent of him surround her as she gently played with her opening. Another finger found the little bundle of nerves that always quickly made her come undone.

Biting her lip to keep quiet, only the slight slosh of water could be heard in the quiet space.

She imagined him coming into the bathroom, hair tied back, in his white shirt and trousers. He rolled up a sleeve and, without a word, slipped his hand in the water to replace her own. In her mind, thick fingers replaced slender ones, and she pictured herself being stretched. Hermione's stomach clenched, thinking of the look of concentration on his face.

Before long, she was grasping the outside of the tub with her free hand, her orgasm imminent.

She groaned and gasped, riding the wave of pleasure, trying in vain to keep quiet, feeling her body release her tension.

"Hermione?"

Hearing his voice in the middle of orgasm shot it up another notch, and she barely squeaked out, "Just a second!"

In a moment she lay in the water, knowing she looked like she had just run a race with her chest heaving and her cheeks flushed.

"What is it?" she asked with only a little tremor in her voice.

"I have the potion finished for your hair."

Well, wasn't he speedy? "Just come in, door is open."

Hermione watched, amused, as a little vial came floating through the crack in the door and into the room. "A little to the left," she told him, and the vial moved over in that direction. "Okay, now down. I'd rather not have to stand to reach it."

The vial wobbled a little as he must have had a mental image of a sudsy Hermione standing naked in his bathtub. She reached up and snatched it out of the air. "Thank you!" she said to the silent door. "I'll tell you how it goes."

The door slowly creaked shut.

She smiled and uncorked the vial. It smelled the same as her Muggle shampoo, that was thoughtful, and it was still warm. Washing herself as the potion worked in her hair, she was soon ready to drain the bath.

Reluctantly, she pulled the plug and dried off.

Standing in front of the mirror, she took his brush to comb her hair with a grimace. It was always difficult to comb her hair when it was wet, but surprisingly, the brush slid right through.

Well, she had fixed his teeth, and he had tamed her hair. It looked like they both had talents that would complement each other.

"Very nice, dear," said the mirror. "But what are you going to put on?"

Hermione looked around the room in a panic. She hadn't grabbed any other clothes! Putting on her old ones would defeat the purpose of the bath. There was only one thing left to do.

~~HGSS~~

Professor Snape sat with his feet reclined as he waited for Hermione to finish. She had taken an awfully long time after pulling the plug. He wondered if something was amiss. He heard the door creak open slowly and softly shut behind her. Turning his head, his heart stopped.

Hermione was nervously standing just in front of the door in nothing but one of his white shirts, which mercifully hung to her mid-thigh.

The sight of her rendered him speechless, breathless, and brainless.

She must have taken his reaction for anger as she quickly apologized. "I'm sorry. I-I just didn't have anything clean, and I needed something. I figured it was better than a towel for now, and I would transfigure it long enough to get back up to my dorm if that's okay, or you could ask Dobby to get my clothes."

"No, no, Hermione. That's fine. You look…fine. I don't mind." Hoping he wasn't as painfully obvious to her as he was to himself, he walked to her and gave her a reassuring kiss. "You look very nice in my shirt," he told her with his voice husky.

"Maybe I'll have to wear it more often. You certainly seem to…like it," she told him, pressing herself closer to him, feeling his erection against her stomach. "But for now, I really have to go. I don't want to keep Mr. Filch waiting. Could you call an elf?"

Hermione wasn't sure of all the wizarding etiquette, but she knew it was bad manners to call a house elf into someone else's home without permission.

The house elf was called and accepted her request for clean clothes, while the couple chatted and waited. Soon he was back, and Hermione stepped into the bathroom to quickly change, neatly hanging his shirt back up.

Hermione bade Severus goodbye and ran up to her quarters.

She ran back down the stairs after leaving her bag in her room and waving to her friends. Spotting Filch in the main corridor, she greeted him. "Good afternoon, Mr. Filch. I've brought you something." She handed him the jar she was carrying.

Filch took it from her warily, clearly not trusting the contents. "And what am I supposed to do with this, Missy?"

"Well," Hermione said, more than a bit uncertain she had made the right decision, "I know you're a Squib." She saw him flinch and quickly amended, "but my dad was a Squib too. So, since you can't use magic to stop students who are running away from you in the hallway, I got these from the Weasleys' joke shop. It works like human fly paper. Just toss one in front of the students, and it will make a puddle of goo across the hallway, trapping them. I just thought it might be useful."

Filch held the jar now like it was gold, clutching it fiercely to his chest. He regarded Hermione with a more appraising and respectful look. "You and I may get along just fine."

She gave him a wicked grin. "That's what I was hoping." Normally she didn't approve of bribing superiors, but it was going to be beneficial to be on the caretaker's good side.

And this was a humane way for him to stop students, unlike some of the other suggestions he had made through her career here.

"I hear you are friends with Professor Snape?"

He nodded at her. "There's a man who knows how to punish!" he said vehemently.

She smiled. "I'm a friend of his too."

Now Filch really regarded the young Gryffindor with narrow eyes. "Perhaps I'll show you more than the usual secret passages."

"I'd like that," she told him honestly. As a teacher, she needed to know more than the students, and as a friend to both Ron and Harry, she knew exactly what kind of trouble they could get into.

She spent a few hours following Filch around the castle. The inside of his office was startling with all the records he kept, and she had to resist offering to organize it for him. She would be in there for years.

The levels of the castle were daunting. She realized there were entire _towers_ she had never even been in before. Several of the passages led to nowhere significant, but a few led to places like the kitchens, the Quidditch pitch, or were just shortcuts between corridors.

Hermione remembered Ron and Harry complaining about how Professor Snape seemed to be everywhere, looking down his impressive nose at them from the middle of any given hallway. She wondered what they would do to have her new knowledge.

They had called her Kia before; just wait until they learned all she knew now.

If she even told them.

Which she probably wouldn't.

She was a little disturbed by Filch's comments about the different places to hide bodies in the abandoned hallways, but she tried to keep her eyes open for new knowledge should the castle be under siege in the future.

By the time she made it back up to her dorm that evening, dusk was settling, and she felt exhausted.

Her group of friends was with Neville and Luna around the fire discussing plans for after graduation.

After graduation. That was looming near, wasn't it? It was odd for her, not having the anxiety that many students did. She already knew where she was working, where she was living…and maybe who she was going to spend her life with.

Maybe. It was still much too early for that conversation.

Neville was telling them that he and Luna were planning on going on a safari. "She thinks she knows where to find Barnacle Trees, and I can help her search for Blibbering Humdingers and nargles."

"That sounds wonderful, Neville. I'm sure you both will have a great time."

Before long, Hermione was nodding against the chair, lulled to sleep by the buzz of conversation and the warmth of the flames. Ginny gently nudged her, and Hermione said her goodnights and went up the staircase to bed.

Sometimes, on nights like this, she missed her chess set, but she had a feeling Severus was enjoying it. She had forgotten to ask how he liked her musical selection the other night, but now it would have to wait. Reminding herself to owl Filch and set up a time to learn about the portraits in the castle as well, Hermione was almost asleep by the time she laid down.

**Teaser:** He didn't answer but watched in shock as she began to unbutton his fly.


	30. Chapter 29

**Chapter Twenty Nine**

Just over a week had passed by the time Hermione had an afternoon free to spend with a certain man. She had longed to see him earlier, but their schedules just wouldn't align. Hermione had study groups, he had detentions to oversee, but finally they had the day together.

She couldn't wait to see Argus Filch.

It was strange, she knew, but she was fascinated by learning the secrets of the castle. Hermione doubted anyone ever knew all of them, except maybe the builders themselves, but the more she discovered, the happier she was.

Surely Severus would understand. She would go and spend the evening with him and maybe go over Transfiguration – year six or the new book Minerva had given her on some new theories that wasn't even published yet.

Hermione practically skipped down the hall, skirt flouncing beneath her robes as she went to meet Filch that Wednesday morning. Not having morning classes was a perk sometimes.

"Good morning, Mr. Filch!"

"Miss Granger," the wizened man drawled. "Eager to see more, are you?"

"Certainly, sir. Whatever you care to teach me!"

Filch was understandably unused to having a young witch keen on his teaching, and he puffed his chest out and preened a bit, a little boastful of his knowledge of the castle as he led her down the different halls and galleries.

She recognized a few of the portraits, either through her reading or her, well, more dubious associations. She was aware that tickling the pear led to the kitchens, and Filch also knew she was aware that the Room of Requirement was across from Barnabas the Barmy on the seventh floor. She was greeted there by Sir Cadogan and his fat little pony, who immediately challenged Mr. Filch to a duel when he mistakenly believed he was attempting to sully the girl's honor.

Hermione quickly assured him that was _not_ the case.

Mrs. Norris led the vanguard, knowing the castle as well as Filch himself, and she seemed to instinctively know where they were heading. Hermione was surprised to learn that the portrait of Damara Dodderidge fancied Sir Cadogan. Perhaps that was why the portly little knight was in extra shiny armor and carrying a few blossoms. The portrait of Damara, which had been moved to the fourth floor, also hid a spiraling staircase that ended right in the kitchens themselves.

Emeric Switch, an old Transfiguration professor, was hanging in the Grand Entrance, and Hermione was interested to learn that he hid a tunnel that stopped right by Professor Snape's quarters. Perhaps this was how he had made it out of the castle so quickly when he used to be a spy for Voldemort.

Hermione was also surprised to learn that Violet, the friend of the Fat Lady, who now hung not fifty feet from the entrance to Gryffindor tower itself, held a slide that led all the way down to the Quidditch pitch. It was certainly a good thing _that_ was not common knowledge. Harry and Ron would have been expelled by the end of their first year.

A little more of the castle's magic was uncovered, and Hermione was terribly intrigued that a Squib was possibly the most knowledgeable person about the school. Several wards protected the students in the building. While there was nothing to prevent magic from being cast, she found that most students would feel a subtle nudge not to cast the more questionable spells. There was also a Location Charm so that a teacher could be guided to any student, within reason. Some places, such as the Chamber of Secrets and the Room of Requirement, were not on the school's main map and were referred to as Unknown. Students, or professors, in these places would cease to exist in the castle according to the castle's magic.

The Heads of House also knew when a member of their House was in mortal peril, working much the same as the clock in the Weasley household.

She learned that most of the teachers' chambers were close to their classrooms, which explained why certain classrooms were being used now. Perhaps a new professor preferred a certain area of the castle, and thus, the whole subject was moved to accommodate them. If she was teaching Transfiguration, would she have McGonagall's old quarters?

Or would the class have to follow her to the dungeons?

It was going to be an interesting summer.

Assuming they killed Voldemort.

Hermione sighed.

Knowing she had Muggle Studies soon, she bade Filch goodbye with assurances that she had enjoyed her time and would be calling on him if she needed any help navigating the castle as a first-year teacher. Giving Mrs. Norris a pat, Hermione prayed her next class would go as fast as possible so that she could meet Severus in his lab.

Tonight, they were going to start the first trial. They had begun the base of the Ourbouros at the start of the week, and it was now ready for the more complex ingredients and brewing.

Hermione would be lying if she said she wasn't happy to be of assistance to him just to watch him brew. His inherent knowledge of everything Potions was fascinating to her. Sure, she knew a little about a lot of things, but to be a complete master of a subject, a Master even, that took years of dedication.  
Knowing him, she shouldn't be all that surprised that he had the grit to achieve it, but she was still impressed all the same.

Class, of course, dragged on, but soon Hermione found herself free for the evening. Thinking of nothing she needed, she went to visit Severus.

It was strange to think that they had been together for almost two months. Two very happy months. Maybe it was time to try something new. She would ascertain his opinion later.

Making her way to his quarters, the Count just moved aside to let her in. She wondered if the man himself was comfortable with the amount of familiarity his chambers were accrediting to her. Shrugging, she stepped inside and called out to greet him, hearing him respond from the other room.

Stepping inside, she inhaled deeply. She knew it was strange, but Hermione loved the smells of the labs – usually. Some potions were altogether unpleasant when they were brewed, but most had an earthy, spicy, musty smell that set her nerves tingling with possibilities. Even more than in Transfiguration, there was always something new to try, something to improve upon, some new branch to be explored. There was always a new "what if…"

Staring into the bubbling cauldron, she asked the man in the corner of the room, "Have you added the fluxweed?"

"Yes."

"And the hellebore?"

"Naturally."

"Finely shredded?"

She heard him gasp. "Finely shredded? I thought you needed coarsely shredded."

Her heart rose in her chest in panic. "No, Severus! It needs to be finely shredded! If the hellebore is coarse, then by the time the fungal spores have time to soak, it will not have-"

"Hermione, of course it's finely shredded. I have had a bit of practice at this, you know."

Bloody git. She could hear the smirk in his voice, and she felt the panic deflate inside her as she slowly exhaled. "Please don't do that. I'm sorry for being, well, me, but you know the dunderheads I normally work with. I'm sure you'd be second guessing me as well."

"True. But to answer your oh-so-many questions, the potion is ready for the final three ingredients and the incantation."

Hermione nodded her understanding. "You can leave, love, if you want to. I know the incantation."

He raised his brow at her endearment but found he didn't mind. Severus remembered her physical distress gathering the samples. Well, all but strangely Potter's. For some reason, she had no qualms about stabbing her living friend, only in stealing from the dead.

But then, he would have no qualms about stabbing Potter either.

No, it was high time he faced those literal skeletons in his closet. He had heard Hermione say a problem shared is a problem halved, and she should not bear the brunt of this on her own.

He would not be a coward.

"I shall remain," he told her. "We will both assist."

Nodding at him, not questioning his decision, she moved to the cupboard and tried not to wince as she gathered the samples. "Which do you think we should try first? Harry or Albus?"

"Might as well use Albus. We can always get more Potter if we need to." He watched her face turn a little green at his comment. It did make the brat sound like aconite or shrivelfigs. "Sorry."

"It's all right. We all deal with stress differently," she said, trying to be brave as she handled parts of his loved ones. "You use sarcasm. Do you think these need to be…chopped? Or anything?"

He shook his head negative. "According to Potter-"

"-Harry-"

"-Harry," he sighed, "the originals were put in whole."

Severus removed the pots from his shelf and took one of the plants he had been charming since they first discussed the potion, enhancing them with many of the same abilities as the Dark Lord. No one could be positive of all of his changes – probably including Voldemort himself – but these came close.

Hermione cringed when she heard the shrieks emitted by the plant he held firmly in his fist. "Do we have to, Severus? Surely there is another way."

"You know there isn't. These Mandrakes have been genetically altered to resemble human DNA. Be glad that makes their hollers non-lethal." He looked at the concerned witch. "It's a plant still, Hermione. They cannot feel pain."

She nodded as he dropped one into the cauldron, just as Harry had said Voldemort was added.

Swallowing, Hermione unscrewed the lids and prepared to finish the potion.

The first jar she picked up was the finger from Harry's mother. "Bone of the mother, knowingly taken, you will undo your son."

She dropped the finger into the cauldron and watched it hiss and swirl from clear to yellow.

Next was the slice she had taken from Dumbledore. Hermione reminded herself to apologize to the portrait after this. "Flesh of the master, unwillingly taken, you will diminish your servant."

The piece of flesh stuck to the side of the jar for a moment before landing in the liquid with a plop which made Hermione frown in disgust. Again the potion steamed, the churning liquid now a deep blue.

With a shaky breath, she finished the recitation. "Blood of the friend, voluntarily given, you will eradicate your ally." She added a dropper full of Nagini's blood and waited.

The potion grew agitated, but there was nothing of the flames and explosion they had heard about. Snape grabbed a nearby ladle and scooped out the still shrieking mandrake.

Laying it on a table, he quickly grabbed his wand and started directing spells at the squirming, screaming bundle. After only a few moments, he declared to Hermione, "We shall need Po-Harry, and Merope, in order to be successful."

She cocked her head at him, reminding him why she had her Patronus. "How can you be certain?"

"Because it was only one-third correct, and Nagini was not in question."

Fair enough.

Hermione groaned as she realized what she would have to do. Not another grave.

Understanding her hesitation, Severus said to her, "I may have a solution to avoid our grave robbing. Please, do not question me now. I have to speak with Minerva first, but I will inform you if it is a viable solution."

She visibly relaxed. "Thank you. So, I was wondering…"

"This can't end well," he muttered.

Ignoring him, she continued, "How are we going to get the potion to Voldemort at all?"

Severus led her back into his chambers as he pondered her question. He called for a meal to be brought to them as they had worked clear through dinner.

The question was a difficult one, especially now that he was not in a position to do it himself.

"How much can Draco be trusted?" Hermione asked quietly. She knew this was a touchy subject for him, and she didn't want him to think she was being disrespectful. "He seems changed this year, even going so far as to call a truce with me at the ball. But I don't pretend to know him, or his situation, nearly as well as you."

"I believe he can be trusted. He has put himself in an extremely precarious position, and a very perilous one. If his father or Voldemort knew of his treachery, he would not see the next dawn."

A house-elf came with their dinner, and they ate silently, both with much on their mind.

"What about an injection?" Hermione offered after a while, still eating her dinner.

"No," he told her, "he is much too protected."

"In his food?"

He shot that down as well. "It's tested. He's lost three of his followers that way, but he would obviously rather they be poisoned than him."

"Sensible, I suppose," she offered.

She kept thinking after Inez had taken her cleared plate. Retiring to the living room, she browsed the books, hoping for inspiration.

"What about absorption?"

Snape watched her from where he was seated. "Pardon?"

"Well," Hermione explained, beginning what he knew would be a lecture, "Muggles have the ability to add a substance to an object, like medication in a patch to be attached to the body, which disperses the substance over time. It's considered to be parenteral, even though it's just diffused through the skin. So, what if an object was transfigured that contained the potion? Something Voldemort would use without even thinking?"

Snape's dark eyes narrowed in concentration. "And it could be small?"

Hermione shrugged. "As small as we needed it to be. We could just adjust the potency according to the amount of contact it would have with the skin."

"I believe your idea has merit," he told her. "The question is, what to use?"

"Well, what does he use? Does he have a favorite goblet? Does he use a pipe? A book, perhaps, or a quill? Does he have any hobbies or artifacts he keeps close to him?"

Snape thought hard, calling on his years of close observation of Voldemort. "He rotates many things frequently, always suspicious of traitors," he told Hermione in his rich baritone. "There is little he does for pleasure. Women hold little interest, he eats and drinks rarely. Before meetings, he would often join Lucius or me for a game of chess, and then we would retire to wherever that meeting was currently taking place."

"Severus, that's it!"

He merely paused, waiting for her to continue. She would expound, she always did.

"Chess! The chess piece! You said he played chess. What if I transfigured the potion into a piece?"

His eyes widened. "I believe that would be perfect."

"Wonderful!" she told him, walking his way from the bookshelves. "I'll work on getting something figured out, since I'll soon be the Hogwarts Transfiguration professor," she said in a playful tone. "But there is still one more thing that needs to be done tonight."

"And what's that?" he asked in a weary voice.

Hermione stepped close to him and straddled his lap, placing one leg on either side of his in the large chair. Grabbing his cravat, she pulled him to her for a searing kiss.

She loved being able to do that.

With her thin and nimble fingers, Hermione untied his cravat and pulled it off his neck, letting it drop to the side of the chair while never stopping kissing him. He was still a little unsure how to handle himself when it came to physical intimacy with her and settled for placing his hands on either side of her waist.

She, however, knew exactly what she wanted to do and leaned back lightly on his knees as she undid each button, one by one, until all ten of them, from his neck to his waist, were undone.

Severus pictured another scenario, fictional this time, with this same beginning, as he felt himself grow hard beneath her.

Hermione slid her arms along his, removing his jacket. Truthfully, she loved it on him, with all of its buttons, when he was pacing in the classroom or patrolling a hallway. When they were intimate, however, she much preferred the white shirt underneath.

Once he was free of the jacket, she gave him a thorough kiss as she brought up her hands and started undoing those buttons as well. She only got through two before his hands grasped hers firmly and he pulled back, breathless.

"What are you doing?" he asked her with a trace of fear.

"I'm going to take off your shirt, if that's alright."

She could see his breathing had not slowed, and she placed a hand on him, running it up and down his chest. "I won't if you're not comfortable, but I _really_ want to," she told him in a voice that was closer to a purr.

"Hermione…I…it's not…I'm…"

"Yes?"

His face took on a grimace as he tilted his head down from her. "I'm not like…your ex."

"And thank God for that!" she immediately replied. "How do you mean?"

"I'm not seventeen," he answered, bitter. "I'm not a Quidditch star. I haven't led a blessed life."

She regarded him, giving him a serious gaze from navel to nose. "Do you know what I expect…no, what I hope for, when I take off this shirt? I expect to find a pale man with skinny limbs, a little hair on his chest, some scars, a soft stomach, and strong arms. Will I be disappointed?"

His voice was barely a whisper. "No."

"Good," she told him, and he watched, breath held, as she continued with his buttons.

_It's do or die, old man,_ he told himself. _You knew it was bound to happen. Insatiable curiosity. Relationships don't just end at kissing, you git. You knew she was going to eventually want more, so stop being such a coward. It was good while it lasted at least._

Little did he know, Hermione was fighting off the urge to just rip open the shirt with girlish glee, laughing as the buttons went flying. She forced herself to appear calm, and she leaned forward as she reached the bottom to kiss along his jaw, working below the ear, down his neck, and ending at his collarbone, listening to his gasp and slight moan.

"See?" she told him. "Couldn't do that with the shirt on."

He merely grunted.

Leaning back to admire him, she ran her hands down his chest. She just couldn't stop touching. She was right. Just a little patch of hair on his pale skin, with a trail leading down the center. She let her finger follow that trail to where it ended at his trousers.

"And how brave are you feeling tonight?" she asked him.

He didn't answer but watched in shock as she began to unbutton his fly.

…Pop.

…Pop.

…Pop.

She hadn't run. She didn't stop. She was…oh, Merlin…

"What are you doing?" he repeated for the second time that night in a voice that, even now, sounded like an audible confection.

"Do you want me to stop?" she asked him, concerned. This wasn't an area they had really discussed.

"I don't…I don't want you to feel pressured into anything. I don't want you doing anything but by your own volition."

"Did you ask me for this? Are you forcing me? No, Severus. You know me better than that. If you forced me, I wouldn't do it." She reached out and grabbed his face gently in her palms, persuading him to look at her. "And you would never force me. You are a good man."

Sliding off the chair, she brought herself between his knees until she was kneeling on the floor in front of him. At this level, especially with the unbuttoned fly, she could see the outline of him straining against the fabric.

Half of him, at least, was in wholehearted agreement.

When she ran her hands up his thighs, just as she had in his mind, he wanted to cum right then and there.

Damn minx.

"Is this alright? I won't continue if it isn't." She looked up at him from her position on the floor and repeated her feelings from earlier, "But I really want to."

He nodded to her, and she reached up to grab the hem of his pants.

His heart was beating wildly, _thumpthumpthump,_ in his chest as he lifted his rear out of the chair and helped her pull his trousers to his ankles, leaving him just as well as naked before her.

His penis sprang free, proud and ignorant of the tension in the room.

Severus, on the other hand, could not believe the position he was in. He was practically naked - naked! – in front of a student. In front of Harry bloody Potter's best friend. And this was acceptable to both of them. If the hungry look in her eye was any indication, she was quite pleased with the arrangement.

He tried to cover himself at first, having second thoughts about whether this was a well thought out plan, being so vulnerable in front of her.

Hermione grasped his wrist with the softest touch. "I'd like to look at you, if that's alright. You're very…intriguing."

"Intriguing?"

"Deliciously intriguing."

And he was. Broad, strong shoulders lead to strong arms. The patch of hair on his torso led to the trail down his stomach, which cascaded into a black pool around his erection. His chest was firm, and his stomach was soft, the perfect place to lay her head. His thighs were thick and muscular, showing themselves to be the instruments of his infamous stride.

From his thick, jet black hair, lightly brushing the top of his bared shoulders, down to his glaringly white calves, sprinkled with the same black hair, he was a vision that made her heart race and her mouth water.

Did he know? Did he even know how delectable he looked to her?

She stared at what he had not revealed to anyone, except perhaps poor Madam Pomfrey. He was not quite as long as Ron, but he was much thicker, and she was oddly pleased by this. It was a good trade, if her roommates were to be believed.

And he wasn't ginger. She liked the look of him naked _very_ much.

The thought of Ron – her _cousin_ – made her shudder for a moment, which he mistakenly believed was for himself. "You don't…you don't have to…"

"No, it's alright. Bad memories is all. I like this much better." Before he could protest, she reached out and grasped him firmly at the base, running her tongue over the top of him and enclosing her mouth over the tip. One hand ran through the thick thatch of black coarse hair that ended the trail on his stomach.

His head hit the back on his chair as the jolt from her actions raced through him. She began sucking on the tip and running her mouth down him. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his hands clenched onto the arms of the chair. She took one of them and placed it in her hair, encouraging him to grasp her head as she ministered to him.

His hand felt her soft, scented curls as her head bobbed in his lap, and he watched her, committing this moment to memory. Gently stroking her hair, he was reduced to nothing but gasps and groans.

Stopping for a moment, she told him to tell her what he liked and didn't like. "You know me, always a Kia," she said in a cheeky voice, turning back to the task at hand.

As she laved the little ridge beneath his head, he exhaled, "Oh, that feels good."

"Good," she told him, continuing on but trying to make sure it didn't become too sensitive.

His little groans and grunts had her aching, she wanted him so bad. But this wasn't about her. This was for him, and just him. She didn't want him to feel that he needed to reciprocate anything. Nothing to give back, nothing to repay. "You feel fantastic," she told him, wanting him to relax and enjoy this. "I love tasting you," she said, nibbling on the head of his member, knowing how talking had an effect on men. Thank you, Lavender. "God, I want you," she told him breathlessly, taking him back into her mouth while she worked the rest with her hand.

"That's good too," he said as she took him as deep as she could, feeling him against the back of her throat. "Nimue," he gasped, barely able to talk with the pleasure flooding his brain, rendering him speechless. "Keep that up, and I won't last long," he warned.

But that was exactly what she wanted to hear.

Grabbing and fondling his balls with one hand and reaching underneath to grab his arse with her other, she continued to take him deep.

The sight of her, coupled with the feel of her hot mouth and her skillful hands, soon had his breathing erratic as he fought not to thrust his hips to meet her.

"I'm going…Hermione…I'm going to…"

She heard the panic in his voice as she leaned back and continued to stimulate him with her firm fist. Her own stomach tightened just watching him take his pleasure. It was extremely erotic for her, watching him as he writhed.

He groaned with the intense feeling of being pleasured by another and missed the sight of her eyes growing huge at the sight of his orgasm.

It ripped through his body, his eyes tightly shut as he let loose a loud groan and gasp, and she watched the magnificent display of him shooting his load actually up and over the back of the chair, leaving only traces to run down her now still hand.

"Wow," she said.

He made no comment, feeling entirely exhausted, but he managed to open his eyes to see her awestruck eyes with her cat-that-ate-the-canary grin.

Looking down, he noticed how little there was. Had it hit her? Had he not actually cum at all?

As she explained what had happened, gesturing over the back of the chair, he closed his eyes again in embarrassment and shame. It was just like him. Even at his age, he obviously had less control over his body than a sixteen-year-old teenager.

She surprised him by kissing him out of his little pity party, shirt still open with his pants at his ankles. She laughed a little as she joked, "This will be a story to remember when we're old." She kissed him again. "Your first with me, when it took the house-elves weeks to find it all," she giggled as she rested her head against him, and he felt better.

"And I still like you naked," she whispered in his ear.

He smiled.

~~HGSS~~

As she prepared to leave, Hermione watched him as he got his garments back in order, leaving off the jacket and cravat.

He frowned at her, watching her go.

"But…" he hesitated, and she stopped to look at him. "You are left unsatisfied." He felt uncomfortable. Is that something he should have said? Should the issue have been brought up sooner? Was he supposed to have returned the favor then, and he had somehow missed his cue?

He was rubbish. This was why he had never tried to have a relationship.

She gave him a hug on her way to the door. "I am very satisfied," she reassured him. "Just not in the same way you were. Time for me can come later. Tonight was about to you. And," she whispered in his ear, "I hope next time is too."

He felt a stirring in his trousers already.

Traitor.

She opened the door and turned to wave to her chess set before leaving. Pausing, she walked over to them with a curious expression. Suddenly, she burst out laughing.

Severus walked to her, seeing the chess pieces in a semicircle around the board. They were staring down at something on a corner.

There was a large splatter of white fluid on the board, and an indignant black rook was being wiped off with help from a white bishop.

As his face burned fiercely, Hermione's laughter could be heard echoing down the halls as she left his rooms.

He smirked at her mirth as the portrait closed.

All thing considered, he loved being with Hermione. And he just loved her. How could he not?

~~HGSS~~

She entered the common room, fighting the urge to skip.

And sing.

And maybe whistle.

Ginny and Lorrell watched her in question as the boys continued to study. Harry and Neville were oblivious to her joyous attitude as she joined them.

"Hello everyone!" she said happily as the girls continued to watch her. Hermione noticed she was being observed and tried to discreetly smooth her hair and her clothes. She couldn't hide the flush in her cheeks, but perhaps they would write that off as the exertion of coming up the tower.

Lorrell went back to her books, but Ginny was still watching her, wary.

"Harry, I have good news."

It was Harry's turn to cast the eavesdropping barrier as he inquired, "Is it about the potion?"

Hermione nodded. "We had a trial today, and it wasn't perfect, but we're getting there. We have a few things we need to gather before we try again, but we think we knew where we went wrong. It looks like it's going to work, Harry. I think we can make him human again."

Harry's face was overcome with relief. "Really? Hermione, thank you."

"Thank Professor Snape too. He certainly helped."

"Yeah," said Harry, "but I'm sure it was your idea."

"Maybe," said Hermione a bit shyly, "but I still couldn't have done it without him. Oh, and Harry?"

He looked at her.

"I'm sorry for stabbing you," she said with a shrug.

Harry laughed. "Why on earth _did_ you stab me? That hurt! I still have a scab on the back of my arm!"

"Well, we're undoing the potion you saw Voldemort and Wormtail perform, and part of it was flesh of the servant, so we needed flesh of the master, but it had to be unknowingly given, and we decided to try you, but I couldn't tell you about it when I took it, or you'd know and then it would be worthless."

"Did you…did you get what you needed…from my mum?"

"Yeah, Harry. We did. It didn't work though. I'm sorry. But I promise you that I didn't disturb anything more than I needed to, and everything was put back in order when I left."

"'Than you needed to'? You did it, Hermione?"

"I had to," she told him. "I couldn't very well ask him to rob the grave of his only friend in school. Or of the headmaster. He helped me with that one, but I did that too," she said with a shudder.

"You're incredible, Hermione," said Harry.

"That was really brave," Ginny told her.

"And kind of stupid," said Ron.

"And a little gross," Lorrell added.

"Yes," said Hermione. "Yes, it was. And as much as I hate to think about it, I am going to have to do it again, I think."

"Whose grave?" asked Lorrell.

Hermione sighed. "Voldemort's mum."

"Ew," was the general sentiment heard unanimously around the room.

"Indeed."

Hermione grabbed her Charms book off the table where Ron had been reading it. Who knew where his copy was currently located. She sat in her chair, discreetly watching her friends as they all studied together.

How many more nights would they have like these? How much longer would they be able to just sit and study and laugh?

How many wouldn't make it through the battle to come?

Hermione wasn't going to fool herself. She knew that the battle would somehow make its way back to Hogwarts. And she knew if it did, her friends would fight, and they would fight well. But would it be enough?

Would the younger students be able to hide in time? Would the professors all fight as well? There were just so many questions, but at least now they had a plan and were not strictly at the mercy of Voldemort and his whims on when he decided to bring his army.

Hermione took her pleasure out of the time she had and would let tomorrow worry about itself.

**Teaser: **Instead of a quote, I'm just going to ask you – you know the piano scene from Pretty Woman?


	31. Chapter 30

**A/N: **The 500th review challenge fic is completed and beta'd. Look for it in a few days. It's called, appropriately, 'The Challenge'.

Oops. **Playlist**: http:/ /www .youtube .com/watch?v=MDmA5HNBvI0

**Chapter Thirty**

Hermione was sitting at breakfast when the morning mail came. She was surprised to see an owl fly to her and drop a note. This was rare. She didn't know anyone outside of the school who would send her a letter, now that her parents were gone, and this bird didn't look like a school owl.

Opening it up, she found a note from the headmistress, asking if she would come to her office at Hermione's earliest convenience.

Glancing up to the High Table where McGonagall was chatting with her deputy, Professor Flitwick, she noticed no tension and left for her classes. Whatever it was, she wasn't in trouble.

It was early afternoon when she was released from Charms and headed up the spiral stairway. "Hello?" she called tentatively, coming into the main part of the headmistress's office.

"Yes, Hermione. Come in, please," said Minerva as she reached into a tall curio cabinet. She removed something small, then proceeded to lock the cabinet and slid the key into her pocket.

Stepping into the room, Hermione looked up and nodded at all of the portraits staring down at her. Minerva came over at once and set something small in her hand.

"Severus asked me to lend this to you again, Hermione. He didn't say why, and I didn't dare ask."

She handed the small object she had removed from the cabinet to Hermione, placing it in her hand and dropping the long gold chain after it.

It was the Time-Turner.

"It's just kept in your office?" asked Hermione, surprised.

McGonagall gave a good impression of her Potions master. "Where did you think it was kept? Behind the third pillar on the west side of the northernmost tower, under a book on the fourth bookshelf, to the left of the picture of the water lily?"

Hermione let out a snort. "Seems like it would be a little safer."

"Nonsense," Minerva told her. "You have to sneeze three times and spit over your shoulder to the left of Phineas before you can open this cabinet."

"Is that all?" said Hermione with a laugh.

"Of course not," said the headmistress. "That's just all I'm telling you."

Hermione smiled at the older woman before remembering the object in her hand. "But, why do I need this?" she asked stupidly, knowing Minerva didn't know.

"I suggest you go ask him, child. As far as the rules go, you're aware of them. No one knows, Hermione, but us three."

Hermione agreed and left the office puzzled, heading straight for Severus's quarters. For entertainment's sake, she used the passageway underneath the portrait that she had recently learned about.

"_What good is knowledge if you don't use it?" _she reasoned to herself as she descended into the torch-lit darkness.

He wasn't there when the Count gave her admittance, so she took a seat on his sofa to wait.

It wasn't long before he arrived, coming in with a bang and a grumble, tossing his cloak on the desk chair. He apparently didn't see her as he sifted through the papers on his desk for something in particular. Finding it, he turned around, stopping mid-spin when he saw her watching him with a grin.

"And since when do you just come into my chambers?" he asked her.

"Since he started letting me," she smartly answered back, gesturing to the portrait guarding his door.

She was worried he was angry until he responded, "I knew I had a good portrait."

He smirked at her before giving her a welcoming kiss. Just that kindled the feelings she had aroused in him before. She had ignited something that would not be so easily extinguished. Almost two weeks had passed since that night and the trial, and both were immersed in testing and studying and preparing for the end of the year, in more ways than one. He had missed her, in body and mind.

"Minerva gave me this today," Hermione told him, holding up the Time-Turner. "You have an idea?"

"Of sorts." He came to sit by her on the sofa, and she marveled at the ease he could display with her now, as she tried in vain to not picture him naked.

She failed.

"I've thought about what you mentioned. About needing to find the body of Tom Riddle's mother. I've searched every record or log I can think of to find the resting place of Merope Riddle and have come up short. However, we don't need to know where she is buried."

"We don't?" asked Hermione.

"We know where she died."

"Brilliant!" she exclaimed as grasped his implication. "So, I'm going?"

"I'm afraid I see no other option. Men would not have been allowed to see her, as she had just given birth. Midwives were far more common. However, if you think you cannot do it alone, I will accompany you and travel Disillusioned."

She considered his words and knew what it meant for him to say it. But she had to refuse. "No. We know how hard it is to travel that far back in time. Taking Harry back a few hours was no trouble, but there is a high risk of complications going back, what, seventy years?"

"Seventy three," he corrected.

"Exactly. No, I think I can handle this. I'll have my wand. Do we know what she looked like?"

He brought out a heavy book and took a photo out of a sleeve. Showing it to her, Hermione saw a pale woman with rather dull brownish hair, dressed in old, patched robes. Handing it back, she assured him she'd be able to identify her.

"And you know when Riddle was born?" Hermione asked.

Snape nodded, showing her the birth certificate with birth date, time, and place.

"When do you think would be a good time to try it?" he asked her.

"I'm ready right now," Hermione told him. "I know where, I know when, I know how. Would you like to walk me to the Apparition point?"

He goggled at her. "You're leaving now? You don't need to wait? And…plan or anything?"

She was boggled when she looked at him. "No, why? I know what I need to do, so let's go. The sooner I get back, the sooner we can see if it even works."

"Gryffindor," he muttered under his breath as he tossed his robe back on.

They discussed the plan as they headed outside. She tried not to tremble as she gave him a hug and began to turn the dial on the right.

One.

Two.

Three.

Finally reaching seventy three – she hoped – she turned the appropriate knobs to reach December 31st, 1926, at the correct time of day.

Only as the knobs began to spin did she remember that December was liable to be cold.

After the twisting and spinning she was familiar with, she found herself outside of Hogwarts, on a bitterly cold December afternoon, with the snow swirling around her.

Thinking quickly of shelter, she firmly pictured the orphanage she knew Voldemort had been born at, and Apparated.

When she opened her eyes, a large, three-story brick building greeted her, looking a bit tattered but proud in the outskirts of London.

Running quickly across the street, taking note of the old style of automobiles, she ran into what she deemed to be the front entrance.

Coming to a harried looking receptionist, Hermione quickly told her, "I'm here to see Merope Riddle."

The receptionist gazed at the girl up and down before answering, "I'm afraid I don't know who you mean."

"The young woman," Hermione clarified, "who should have just given birth."

She described the witch to the Muggle woman, who then sadly informed her, "I'm sorry. I'm afraid it doesn't look as though she'll make it."

"I'm a nurse," Hermione lied. "I was asked to come and see if I could assist."

"Ah, right through the door on the left. I'm sorry, I didn't realize Doctor Blalock sent for you. Hurry along then, or there will be nothing for you to do but clean up," said the receptionist, already going back to her typing.

Hermione was thankful for her black, nondescript robes that could cover for a traveling cloak in this time period. She walked along the hallway, peeking in doorways until she found a large room with a few women rushing around, with a woman who could only be Merope Riddle lying on a gurney in the middle of the room.

"Does the patient need assistance?" asked Hermione with much more confidence than she felt, taking in the shabby room and the tired-looking midwives.

An older woman came close and told her in a whisper, "Not much to be done now, dearie. The baby's been born, but her heart's just broken. Losing a lot of blood, that one is. Only thing to do now is make her comfortable."

Hermione nodded and walked up to the side of the dying woman. "Hello," she said softly. "My name is Hermione. I've come to help."

"Are you an angel?" the delirious woman asked.

"No," she told her, leaning close. "But I'm a witch like you." Hermione watched the woman's eyes go wide as she continued. "And I've come to offer you something. I want to help you, Merope. I want to help you kill Tom Riddle."

The woman's face hardened. "Tom. Tom couldn't love me," she said, angry. "Couldn't accept who I was. Couldn't accept our baby."

Merope's breath was growing short now, and the number of nurses had dwindled to two. Mostly, it seemed, merely waiting.

"What do you want?" she gasped.

"Just a token from you, Merope. After you pass," said Hermione, trying to remain strong, "may I have a part of you to use to destroy him?"

"Take it," she said, barely breathing. "Take what you need. Take it all."

And then her eyes closed once more and her chest fell, not to rise again.

Hermione's face became stone, imagining how Severus would react, how she needed to respond. Vowing to have a good long cry for the woman later, she quickly grabbed the woman's hand and whispered, "_Diffindo_." Stifling a shriek when the spell severed the whole wrist, leaving a still-warm hand in Hermione's own, she looked down to see herself covered in blood. Although it wasn't all visible on her black robes, she had felt the splash against her face and could feel the warmth on her robe.

"Hey! You there! What are you doing?" asked a young nurse who had spotted the blood on Hermione.

Hoping it would work, Hermione dove out of the room with the severed hand in hers, picturing the lawn from which she had just come. She could hear the clatter from her pursuers, and as soon as she cleared the door, she Apparated back to the cold air of Scotland, turning the dials on her Time-Turner once she could stand upright. The chill of the air was not helping her catch her breath as the adrenaline from her escape wore off.

Closing her eyes as the dials spun once again, she slowly peeked them open when she felt the ground stop moving and the air become warmer. Severus was sprinting toward her, his voluminous robes rippling and swelling behind him.

He reached out to give her a hug, and she answered him by holding the severed hand at arm's length to stop him.

Severus stopped short when he saw what she carrying, and he quickly found the bag he had carried with him, having come prepared. Gingerly placing it inside, he once again reached for Hermione.

"Love, you're freezing."

"No!" she cried. "Don't touch me! Bath. Now." She was already heading up the walk, and that day, Severus learned an important lesson.

When _not_ to argue with a woman.

~~HGSS~~

Hermione took another soak in Severus's bath, making good on her promise to have a nice long cry for Merope Riddle. Once again, he knocked on her door and sent in the potion for her hair, this time including a wash for her body as well, for which she was grateful. She felt like she would never get clean.

Severus settled himself outside the door, prepared should she need anything while she was bathing. He still didn't feel comfortable coming in, but he wanted to be nearby in case she needed him. He sat on the floor with his legs drawn to his chest as he listened to her cry. It pained him to hear her weeping, and he would have done anything to stop it, but he knew it was what she needed. She needed to let go of the intense pain she was feeling as a result of what she had experienced. And he had no idea what it was. But, knowing Hermione, she would tell him in her own time. He knew this was how she had to deal with her shock, pain, and guilt before she could explain.

"Severus?" he heard through the slightly cracked door.

"Yes, Hermione?"

"Thank you," she told him, and he had no answer.

Slowly she opened up and began to tell him the details. About the large orphanage swelling with people. About the room in which Voldemort had been born. The room in which his mother had died. She told him about Merope's last moments, how Hermione had tricked her into believing she was going to kill the father and not the son. But still, the bones had been willingly given.

He knew now why she had wanted a bath so badly. He knew what it was like to be drenched in the blood of another, the blood of an innocent.

He, too, had needed to scrub his skin raw as soon as possible.

They sat there and talked until the topics became mundane. They discussed her classes and his. An interesting article, the custard at last night's dinner, anything to keep her mind off what had happened. After a while, her water began to cool. Instead of refreshing it, she dried herself and dressed in the clothes he had asked Dobby to retrieve. She slowly opened the door, pink and fresh and smelling of the warm vanilla fragrance. It was hard to believe this diminutive witch had accomplished even half of what he knew she had.

She stepped into his arms after he lifted himself off the floor, wrapping her arms around him tight and feeling him do the same.

"I think I'd like to play for a while, if you don't mind."

"Go right ahead," he offered. "I'll grade while you do."

She brought out her piano and set the chess set on it. Definitely not feeling like singing, Hermione took out the folder of music next to a few of the music books on Severus's shelf that she kept there, strictly for emergencies. Sometimes, she just needed to play.

"I haven't played 'The Moldau' for you, have I?"

"Hmm? No, I don't think so," he told her, not looking up from his desk, where his nose almost touched the parchment. (1)

She levitated his reading glasses to him without a word and queued up her musicians. "Typically, this doesn't really have a piano," she told him, "but I just play the second flute melody. The two melodies are the warm and cold branches of the Moldau that run in Czechoslovakia, which form into one river, small at first, but soon it grows massive."

Hermione helped play the beautiful surging melodies of the river as it ran through the forest and the meadows. "Sometimes, this reminds me of Scotland, and I can picture a river running through the Highlands. And there? Can you hear the horns? They're hunting horns, off in the distance."

The song changed to a lighthearted dance as she explained how the river was passing by the wedding of peasants, and they were celebrating by dancing a polka. "Smetana was friends with Liszt, you know, and very highly regarded in his homeland. He shows that you can have proper symphonic music that is program music. Remember, music that tells a tale? Anyway, he put in the light dance theme which was also thought not proper or possible. It was quite controversial in music theory."

The music became slow and pensive, with drawn out horns, and then, just the barest hint of the theme of the river. The violins played long phrases of light dancing over the water. "It's the Rusalkas, or water nymphs," she told him, seeing that he was watching her now and not grading so much. "It's a Czech myth, and they're kind of like mermaids. Now, the river becomes agitated."

The orchestra was full of vigor as the music lifted and waved the loud melody through the room. Suddenly, angry horns bellowed, and soon the flutes and woodwinds answered the call. "It's the swirling Rapids of Saint John," she explained," with the water rushing around, and now…"

He was in awe to hear the water, actually hear the rush and drop over a waterfall as it ran down to a basin below.

"…it runs through Prague," she said as the song of the river became proud and majestic, as if knowing that it was showing off the crown jewel of its homeland, with its clear waters and light glimmering off the buildings on the shore.

"And now it runs off into the distance toward Elbe," she finished, as the music came to a close with a horn fanfare.

"That was impressive," he told her in his Professor Snape voice.

She gave him a grin with the glint in her eye that he knew meant mischief. He had seen that look since she was eleven years old. "You know what? Come here for a moment," she said sweetly.

He was apprehensive but obeyed, standing to lean against the front of the keyboard.

Hermione slid down the bench until she was sitting in front of him. "What do you think?" she asked. "Do you think I can play my professor as well as I can play this piano?"

He swallowed hard. "I daresay you can."

"Hmm? Do you think so?" she asked, moving him to the middle of her keyboard. Hermione was still seated on the bench with him standing in front of her, towering over her in his black twill and buttons. She ran her palms up against his firm thighs as he looked down at her with his arms crossed. Not fooled by his stern demeanor, she leaned forward to rub her cheek against his stomach, inhaling the smell of the fabric, adoring the ink stains on his fingertips that matched her own.

She looked up at him from what was fast becoming his favorite position. "Do you want to know what I have learned since our last visit, Professor?"

He cocked a brow and still frowned, attempting to mask his shallow breathing and the thumping of his heart.

"_Semoveo_," she whispered, running her finger down his fly, with a satisfied smirk as she heard the snick of each button popping free. Pushing apart the fabric, she saw black knit boxers with, of course, a button for the fly.

She undid this as well.

He was still silent, even though he knew nothing was hidden from her.

Hermione tauntingly put her mouth close to where he was straining against the tight fabric. "Do you want this, Severus?" asked the little minx. "Is there something you've missed?"

His head lolled back as he groaned, feeling her hot breath through his shorts.

"What was that? I couldn't hear you. Maybe you didn't, and I should just leave."

He reached out and grasped her cheeks with his palms. "Yesss," he hissed at her.

"Yes, Severus? I should leave?" she teased.

"Yes, I missed you. God, I missed you. I've never felt the way you make me feel, Hermione. Please don't go. I need you." He took one of her hands from his shorts to place it on his heart. "Here and here."

She shyly grinned at him. "I'm not going anywhere. At least not for a while. I have a project, Professor. And I never leave my projects…unfinished."

Hermione pressed him down until a discordant clamor was heard as he sat on the keys. Watching as he freed himself from the garments, she made a mental note that the piano bench was a fantastic height.

He didn't need her encouragement before he started to remove his jacket. Pausing at the cuffs, he suddenly asked, "Is this acceptable?"

"Absolutely. Keeping going."

Reassured, he was soon standing before her in nothing but the underwear, now pushed to his knees.

Hermione took one look at them, and they were Vanished.

"But…" he started to exclaim until she put a hand on his chest and pushed him back over the piano.

With him leaning back on his elbows, she could see parts of him that she had not been able to see before.

Here, a burn. There, a slash. There were not many, and they blended into the pale canvas, but in this light, she could see them.

Hermione decided she liked to see her hands on him better.

"It's not polite to stare," she heard from a disgruntled Potions master.

"Sorry," she said. "It's just I couldn't see you very well last time. And now I'm taking my time to admire you."

"Hmpf," he grumbled as he leaned his head back, black hair brushing the black surface of her piano.

She reached down and began to stroke him, eliciting a groan. Hermione worked quickly, knowing he must be frustrated at having been aroused and then kept on hold while she perused his body.

Well, she wasn't going to make him wait.

He felt her expert lips and marveled at how much better this felt than any way he had ever touched himself. For this, he would rest his bare arse on cold piano keys anytime.

Spreading his legs apart, with the piano releasing another uncoordinated chord, Severus reached between them to grasp the base of his cock, and Hermione sat back, fascinated to watch him hold himself.

"Is this pleasing you?" she asked.

"Very much," he answered in the velvet tones she loved so much.

She watched as one hand lifted off the piano before setting itself back down again.

"Is there anything else you like or would like to try?" she offered.

He looked down at her. "May I grasp your hair?"

Placing his hand in her hair, she lowered her mouth to him once again and felt his fist tighten in her locks as she took him deep into her mouth. He was never rough or forceful, just keeping a firm grip in her mane as she continued to please him.

Hermione learned she rather liked the feel of the slight tug of her hair.

Soon she head quiet gasps and groans as Severus attempted to remain under control this time.

"No," she told him. "Tell me. Tell me what you like and what you don't like. It's okay."

"Harder," he gasped. "A little more pressure."

Her lips tightened around him a bit more as she added a lick of her tongue against his glans when she reached the end, which, judging by his sudden growl and his head falling back again, he didn't seem to mind.

Soon he began to buck and stiffen.

"I'm close," he gasped. "I'm close."

She pulled back just in time for him to spill over her hand and on the keys with a long groan.

And she swore she heard him say her name.

The chess set was thankfully spared this time.

When his panting diminished, he looked down to see her examining her hand, still covered in the thick milky fluid.

"You're not going to taste it, are you?" he asked with slight revulsion.

"Hardly," she answered. With an Evanesco, her hand was clean.

"This poor piano," she mused. "The things we will never be able to share with our children."

He scoffed at her, and she looked at him, hurt.

"You have a problem with children?"

"I'll never be a father," he told her with finality as he reached for his trousers.

"Oh? Is that so?"

"Yes."

"So you hate children?" she asked, arms crossed as she watched him dress.

"Most children are dunderheads, Hermione. Even you would probably have dunderheads."

"Great. So you think any children would be stupid? Is that it?"

He looked at her, confused. "I think they all are at some point, but this conversation is moot. I will never have children."

Gazing at him in anger, she told him in her shrill voice, "Fine. I know we haven't been together very long, but I can certainly see a future with you, but not if you aren't even going to listen to my opinion on children! I would never expect anything right away. I know this is new, and I'm young, but just because you don't want to be a father doesn't mean I never want to be a mother!"

Before he knew it, the portrait was slammed shut, and he was standing in his living room, still buttoning his fly.

His first thought was that the potion would have to be delayed because he couldn't do it without her.

His second thought replayed what she had hurled at him before departing.

"_Just because you don't want to be a father doesn't mean I never want to be a mother!_"

What would the fact that no one would ever want to make him a father have to do with her being a mother?

…Because they were two halves of a whole.

She saw him as a potential father to her children.

And he may as well have just told her to go bugger herself.

Fuck.

~~HGSS~~

The next day found Hermione still angry and upset that he hadn't even considered her wishes in the matter. She certainly was not looking for a family now. But someday…

Hermione had managed to avoid him, not having Potions and taking meals at odd times. When she got back to the common room that afternoon, she saw a desperate Ginny trying to cheer a depressed Lorrell.

Pushing aside her anger, she asked, "What's wrong?"

"I'm dying," said Lorrell. "I think I just died a little on the inside."

Worried and confused, she asked Ginny, "What happened?"

"The Chudley Cannons lost their chance at the World Cup," Ginny told her in all seriousness.

"So?" said Hermione. "They lose every year."

"Yes," Ginny explained, "but this is Lorrell's first year cheering for them. For her, it's new."

"Oh. Poor thing."

Ginny nodded her agreement. "You looked upset today too, Hermione. Everything alright?"

"As well as it can be. Everyone has to have their first big quarrel, right?" she told her friends, making a poor attempt at being falsely cheerful.

"Uh oh," Ginny said. "Trouble in paradise?"

"I never said anything was paradise. We'll just have to see. But right now, I think I know what we need."

"What's that?" asked Lorrell. "You can't just heal these kinds of wounds!"

"You can with a little retail therapy."

"Hermione!" Ginny exclaimed. "How can we get out of the castle?"

"I'll explain to Minerva that I need to make a trip to Hogsmeade this afternoon for an ingredient for the potion and that you two will accompany me for safety, seeing as Severus can't leave the castle and no one else knows about it."

"Brilliant!"

"No way," said Lorrell. "I hate shopping!"

Hermione looked at her with a smirk and said one magical word. "Fortescue's."

"I'm in," Lorrell answered. "But I'm not trying on anything pink and frilly!"

A quick owl response from Minerva, and they were off to spend the evening out of the castle, a welcome break at any time of year, but especially when everyone was buckling down for exams. Already there had been three breakdowns, and the girls were eager to avoid that fate.

They spent a pleasant evening together; the three girls rarely got to do anything, well, girly. None of them were particularly crushed about this, but it was still nice on occasion to shop through the trendier section of Gladrags or to sit and talk in the Three Broomsticks or Fortescue's new ice cream parlor.

Hermione browsed through Dervish & Banges, picking up a few trinkets.

All three girls stocked up at Honeyduke's. They needed some immediate confection consolation, and it wouldn't hurt to keep it on hand for exams and any future arguments that might arise. The dark chocolate toffee bars and the sugar quills were fairly ravaged by the teenaged witches.

They stopped by the new shop Madam Malkin had opened as well, taking their time in the more feminine section. It wasn't often they could look for undergarments since the boys were always present.

Ginny picked up an emerald green bra with silver lace trim and held it in front of Hermione with an, "Ooooh!"

"Ginerva Weasley!" Hermione hissed, grabbing the offending article and throwing it back on the table. "It's much more like this," she said, picking up a black, almost sheer babydoll. The deep "V" of its sweetheart neckline and its short length would flatter Hermione's pixy-like stature, and the silk bodice was very enticing.

"Oh, you have _not_ worn anything like that for him!" said Ginny with morbid curiosity.

"No, I haven't. Doubt I'll ever get to either," she said sadly.

Lorrell told her she should get it anyway. After all, it was better to be prepared. Who knew what would happen?

"True," Hermione agreed. "And maybe there was just a miscommunication. It's certainly happened before."

Now starting to question whether she had left the other morning in haste, she decided to be impulsive and buy the garment. She noticed Ginny picking out a few things as well. Hermione glanced at her friend's purchases and asked her, "Things going well with Harry?"

"You could say that," the redhead answered impishly, darting out of the shop before she could be questioned further.

Hermione waited while Lorrell paid as well, purchasing a long silken nightgown in the same midnight blue as her ball gown from Yule. The thin straps and impossibly deep dip in the front made it something Hermione didn't want to consider when she knew who would be appreciating it.

She found thinking of Ron as family wasn't any better than thinking about him as a friend or ex. Someday, sooner rather than later, she was going to have to sit down and discuss this with his family.

After she decided not to be angry with Severus anymore. They might have a little while yet.

~~HGSS~~

The quarters of the Master of Potions held a completely different air than the three girls out shopping. Severus found himself alternately angry, depressed, sad, embarrassed, and frustrated. One minute he wanted to charge out, find her, and drag her back. The next minute, he wanted her to walk through the door herself and throw her comforting arms around him, or to prostrate herself at his feet.

He tried to read, but he could only think of her reading his books and then bending in front of his shelf. Brewing was no good either, thinking about their research together and hoisting her on the table.

The bed. The bed was safe…for now.

He hadn't listened to the wand she had gifted him so much as he did that night to find rest, vowing the next day to seek her out and grovel at her feet until he had her forgiveness.

…Well, maybe not grovel. Much.

**Teaser:** Frowning, he opened the door.

To see the long blond hair of Lucius Malfoy.


	32. Chapter 31

**A/N: **The first two chaptesr of The Challenge are now posted. Go check them out and thanks again to Anubis Ankh!

Much love, as always, for the wonderful beta and Brit-picker I've been blessed with, Liongirl and shuldham!

**Playlist**: http:/ /www .youtube .com/view_play_list?p=528DBA2B9E91BD61

**Chapter Thirty One**

In his chambers, the Professor of Potions was sitting at his large oak desk grading papers.

Alone.

No one pestering him to reach a book. No one asking him if he wanted more tea. No one frantically flipping pages.

No one talked to him about an article. No one asked him how his day had been. No one complained about a knot in her hair. Or a knot in his.

No brilliant ideas were discovered today. No kisses stolen. No music.

There was no Hermione.

He sighed for what felt like the fiftieth time as he reached to grab another essay.

From the corner of the room, the chess set watched him warily. It had been two days now since their mistress had left the room in a mighty snit, and they hadn't heard a word since. It was obvious that the Dark Man wanted to make amends, but he was oblivious as to how. The white king looked to his black queen with a frown as she shrugged her shoulders. Something needed to be done, but they were at a loss.

He had tried to send an owl. It had been returned. She avoided his eyes in the Great Hall. Hermione was polite in Potions but not forthcoming. They both knew they had to begin the next trial of the potion, but she hadn't contacted him at all.

As he was considering how to get back in her good graces again, his portrait announced that he had a visitor. Immediately standing, he was crestfallen when he realized the Count would have given Hermione automatic entrance. She was the only one granted this privilege. Which meant it was probably just the headmistress. Frowning, he opened the door.

To see the long blond hair of Lucius Malfoy.

"Well, it appears that some things never change," said the man.

"Indeed, they do not," Snape responded, making way for Malfoy to enter his rooms, as the man was going to do anyway, bidden or not.

"So how many greased palms did it take to get you out this time?" he asked idly.

"Enough," Lucius answered. "Sometimes I feel as though they don't care for me. It is almost as if they believe I belong there."

"Hmm, imagine that," Severus told him, taking a seat in the living room.

Lucius joined him, commenting on the arrangement of the rooms since he had been there last. He had been incarcerated almost two years now, since the battle at the Ministry. He was lucky the dementors had left, otherwise he would not appear nearly as healthy as he was. As Severus had heard it, the man's cell had hardly been different from his own home.

Walking up to a mirror on the wall, Lucius stopped for a moment to check his teeth and brush back a wisp of his long blond hair. Making a face at his reflection in the glass, he thought he heard singing from the table below.

"'You had one eye in the mirror as you watched yourself gavotte. And all the girls dreamed that they'd be your partner, they'd be your partner, and you're so vain you probably think this song is about you.'"

Looking down at the chess set who seemed to be looking back at him, he gave them a disdainful glare. They all seemed to glare back, especially a white bishop who stood with her arms crossed.

"I don't believe I care for all your new additions, Severus."

"I hear they're excellent judges of character," Snape returned.

He took a moment to look at his old friend. His hair was freshly washed and cut, but he was still obviously gaunt and paler than normal, even for him. Lucius had his swagger back, but he had lost a bit of his bravado. He was still much better off than Black had been.

"And what do you need of me?" Severus pointedly asked him.

At the entrance of this new man, whom they had never seen, the chess set drew close to the edge of the board to better observe. Arrogant Man did not seem to be welcomed by Dark Man.

They wondered what the mistress would think about this.

"Can't I just come to check on one of my oldest friends? I was just released, you know, only a few days past and very quietly, I can assure you. My only son is here at the school, so I thought to come see you both. The new headmistress was very obliging."

_I'll bet she was_, he thought. He knew Minerva. Lucius would never get out of this castle if Minerva gave the word.

"How is my son, Severus, since I've been gone? Has he kept to his training? Is he still upholding the name of Malfoy?"

Lucius was either fishing for information or had information and was wondering if Snape would confirm it.

"Your son has taken the Mark, as you hoped he would." Which was true. Severus had seen it himself the night Dumbledore was killed. He had sat with the boy for hours after temporarily abandoning the castle. "He is currently at the bidding of the Dark Lord. I hear he is quite promising." Also true. He was just going to leave out the fact he was spying for the Order of the Phoenix.

"You have heard?" Lucius drawled. "Have you not also been to these meetings?"

Snape regarded the man. He knew damn well Lucius was well informed on the activities of the Dark Lord's chosen. The dementors had never returned to Azkaban, and people were bribable. "You know I haven't."

"Are the rumors true, then? That he found evidence of your disloyalty?"

"Of a sort."

"So it _is_ true, then," said Lucius with a touch of glee.

Snape simply stared at him, offering nothing. If he knew of Hermione, then he was one of what was becoming many.

"It's the Mudblood? You've gone soft for the friend of Potter?"

He felt his skin bristle. "I'm sorry. I know of no one who fits that description," he responded with his voice cold.

"Oh, come now, Severus. Don't be like that. You know exactly who I mean. The Granger girl? She caught your fancy? Well, aren't you a one-note song."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Surely you've drawn the same parallels as I? Gryffindor, prettyish in a colt sort of manner, outgoing, practically a bleeding heart who takes on lost causes? Hell, she's even on the arm of a Potter."

"That's enough!" he said angrily. "Hermione may have a few traits in common with…people from the past…but she is an entirely different person."

"Oh? How's that? Because the little whore will sleep you, I bet. That would certainly be a – ouch!"

Only the exclamation stopped Severus from hexing the arrogant arsehole six ways to Sunday. They both looked down to where a small stone figure with a rapier drawn was currently stabbing Lucius clear through the hide of his expensive leather boots.

"Stop that! Ouch! Cease and desist immediately, you little mongrel! Severus, can't you call this thing off?"

"As I told you, Lucius, they are excellent judges of character," he responded flatly with his arms crossed.

Finally the assailed man was able to grasp his opponent and bring him up to eye level. The king had not stopped fighting and now held his sword pointed between Malfoy's eyes. "Well, aren't you a cheeky thing? You must belong to the little chit, then. She's leaving her things in your quarters, Severus? Be careful, or you'll be precariously close to bringing the little whore above her station and giving her more rank than she deserves."

Before he could snap his mouth shut, he found it done for him as Snape stormed across the room and pinned him to his chair. Had Harry been witness, he would have recognized that motion and look at once.

"Listen well, for you shall only hear this once. Hermione is not Lily. Lily could only dream of being half the woman Hermione is. Hermione is brilliant, headstrong, and independent. She is not vain; she does not care about the opinions of worthless others, such as yourself. As I told her myself, Lily was the best I once had. Now I know better. And now I know what it means to be a friend. You, _Malfoy_, know only what it is like to trade for favors like a common street trollop."

Lucius tried to speak, but Snape only gripped the base of his throat a little tighter with his wand held fast to his throat.

Harry knew that look as well.

"For once in your life, you will speak only when you are asked. Yes, it is true I am friends with Miss Granger. It is also true that she and your own son have shared a treaty as well. Because, you see, Hermione is not like Lily at all. She has compassion as well as forgiveness. She has the heart of a lioness, Malfoy, and should you dare to speak a cross word about her in my presence again, pray I deal with you directly instead of allowing her to have a chance at you as she once did with Draco. Muggles don't only use their wands."

By now, the red face of Lucius was sporting wide eyes and angry, flaring nostrils. Snape dropped his hold on him as though suddenly realizing he was touching something filthy from the sewer.

"Leave at once," he instructed the man.

"Severus, why, I believe you're-"

"Get. Out."

Lucius composed himself, looking down to realize that while Severus held him captive, the little king had completely shredded his boot and was currently working on destroying his pant leg. Tossing a snide glare at the set – which had several less than polite gestures for him in return – Malfoy stepped through the portrait hole.

Halfway through, he paused. "I just hope you aren't making the same mistake."

He narrowly missed the crystal glass that smashed the space right where his head used to be.

And then he was gone.

Severus stood in the middle of the room with his eyes closed and his fists balled at his sides. After several meditating breaths, he faced the chess set. "Thank you, friends."

The chess set cheered.

"But now what?" he murmured aloud. (1)

A white rook came and stood at the corner of the board nearest to him. "'Via da questa malinconia, invidia o rabbia che sia,'" the piece began to the light music that was shortly struck up behind him. "'Qui nel mio cuore non voglio più queste parole. Tu dove sei? Il tuo sorriso dov'è? Senza di te, senza il tuo amore che sarà di me? Tutto sembrerà migliore alla luce che verrà dal sole! Questa notte passerà, il buio che c'è si dissolverà! E alla luce di quel sole Io continuerò a cercare te.'"

The little rook's song was passionate, a pleading and soulful baritone with a rich vibrato and beautifully sustained notes.

Severus had a feeling he would wholeheartedly agree with the rook if it wasn't for one thing.

"I don't speak Italian," he told the piece regretfully.

Throwing up his arms, the little piece stalked off in a huff. Obviously, this Dark Man was not cut out for the art of wooing.

The white king laid a consoling arm on Severus's.

"I have no idea what to tell her. Perhaps I am just a coward," he told the piece.

The white king gave a silent signal to the orchestra as a few pieces took positions behind such instruments as a drum kit and guitar, while the rest stayed in their normal places. And, of course, one now had a small piano in Hermione's absence. (2)

"'Though I've tried before to tell her of the feelings I have for her in my heart, every time that I come near her, I just lose my nerve as I've done from the start.'"

"Indeed," Snape agreed.

"'Every little thing she does is magic. Everything she does just turns me on. Even though my life before was tragic, now I know my love for her goes on. Do I have to tell the story of a thousand rainy days since we first met? It's a big enough umbrella, but it's always me that ends up getting wet.'"

The white king was swaying a little now to an invisible microphone as he became involved with the jazzy number. "'Every little thing she does is magic. Everything she does just turns me on. Even though my life before was tragic, now I know my love for her goes on.'" The piece looked at Snape, apparently meaning this part especially for him. "'I resolved to call her up a thousand times a day, and ask her if she'll marry me in some old-fashioned way. But my silent fears have gripped me long before I reach the phone. Long before my tongue has tripped me. Must I always be alone?'"

He repeated the chorus again as the orchestra performed with gusto. Soon he ended the solo with, "'Every little thing she does is magic!'"

"Indeed," Snape agreed again. And it was true. Magical or not, Hermione possessed a quality that, at times, made her almost spiritual to be around. When she was in her element, experimenting and crafting a new idea, it was intoxicating just being in her presence. "She is magical." He sighed. "But I'm not proposing."

Smacking his forehead, the king decided to try a different tactic. (3) The horns began a drawling melody before the piano backed up his soulful tune. "'Oh, she may be weary, and young girls, they do get wearied wearing that same old shaggy dress, yeah, yeah. But when she gets weary, try a little tenderness, yeah, yeah. Oh my, my, huh.'" The staccato lyrics of the song emphasized the rhythm and blues tones as the king sang with his eyes shut, pouring his little heart into the music.

"'You know she's waiting, just anticipating a thing that she'll never, never, never, never, never possess, yeah, yeah, yeah. But while she's there waiting, and without them, try a little tenderness. That's all you gotta do.'"

Knowing how Snape felt about groveling at the feet of another, he continued over the steady tapping of the drum, "'It's not just sentimental, no, no, no. She has her grief and care, yeah, yeah, yeah. But the soft words, they are spoke so gentle, yeah. It makes it easier, easier to bear, yeah.'"

The song almost sounded like it was going to pick up, but it merely added more piano as the stone piece belted out his heart. "'You won't regret it, no, no. Young girls, they don't forget it. Love is their whole happiness, yeah, but it's all so easy.'"

The song changed from a jazzy love song to a power ballad with the steady rhythm of the drums and the piano playing furiously behind the king. "'All you gotta do is try a little tenderness! All you've gotta do is, man, hold her where you want her. Squeeze her, don't tease her. Never leave her, get to her. Just try, try a little tenderness, yeah, yeah, yeah.'"

The black queen was now out dancing with the king as he held her close, demonstrating what Severus had to get out and do himself. "'You got to know how to love her, man. Take this advice, man, you got to squeeze her. Don't tease her, never leave her. You got to hold her, and, brother, something else. Try a little tenderness, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah.'"

At this point, the volume and energy of the miniature band coupled with the dancing and belting king made the words indecipherable, but he grasped their meaning anyhow.

He remembered back to when he had first begun to develop a tender spot for the young witch. He had brought her a flower. Later, when he knew he loved her, he had given her a piano.

Perhaps now another gift would be in order? Or a note not delivered by an owl?

He would have to ponder.

~~HGSS~~

The next morning, Hermione was dreading going to Potions again. She had managed to ignore him thus far, but she knew she wouldn't be able to forever. And to be honest, she didn't really want to. Part of her was wishing she hadn't refused that owl from him, while the other part told her she needed to let him know she was seriously angry. This was a major topic for her, and she wasn't going to give in just because the head of Slytherin actually looked like he was going to apologize. She had overreacted though, she reluctantly admitted. They needed to talk.

A third part of her was just wondering what he would think of her impulsive purchase with the girls.

She poked her head into the classroom before Harry did, and, not seeing him, went to sit at her normal place.

Before long, the door was gently opened and in walked the Potions Master.

Wait. What?

There was no dramatic display of prestige and power. He just walked in, eyeing the classroom.

Who, in turn, eyed him back warily. The students were afraid of the change in their normally tetchy professor.

Snape began explaining the potion they would create that day, and the instructions wrote themselves on his board in his familiar spiky scrawl.

As the students got started, still keeping a watchful eye on the instructor, he began his usual lazy pace around the room, the long cape swishing slowly behind him.

Snape circled to Hermione and Harry's table and watched them both for a moment. "Well done, Mister Potter," he told the startled boy who had surprisingly brewed his potion perfectly up to this point. Perhaps he had learned from the Half-Blood Prince last year, even if, ironically, he couldn't learn from his actual professor.

Hermione raised her eyes to him, the first time she had done so the entire period, to see if his comment had been made sincerely. She was surprised to see it had been.

"Ah, Miss Granger, I see you are further along." He stood behind her, watching her slice the daisy roots. "Perhaps you will notice the book says to add the fluxweed and the daisy roots. It actually means to combine the fluxweed and daisy roots and then add them to the concoction, not one after the other. You'll find, I'm afraid, that the text may say one thing, but it gets misinterpreted when it isn't clear enough."

He walked away, hoping she would grasp his message. He did not see her watch him as he left. He also did not see Harry watching Hermione watching Snape as he left.

"What was _that_, Hermione? Did you tell him he had to start being nice to students or something?" Harry asked her in a fierce whisper.

"No," she told him. "On the contrary, we aren't even speaking at the moment."

They both went back to brewing, not wanting to push their luck that their professor would overhear them speaking during his class. Sometime during their seven years of Potions, they had actually come to care about their work in the class. The students found that aggravating their teacher was a good way to receive poor grades, as Ron had unfortunately found out after Snape Vanished his potion a few months back.

On his next circuit, Snape stopped once again at their table. Nodding at Harry's cauldron, he told Hermione, "Still excellent as usual, Miss Granger. Perhaps you'd care to see me after class? I may have an extra credit project that could use your…expertise."

"I…I think I could do that, Sev-Sir," she answered with hesitation. Surely he was talking about their next trial, which she had been immaturely putting off to prove her point. If she was reading his earlier comments right, perhaps she was correct in assuming it had been a misunderstanding. One way or another, she would find out after class.

When the period was over, the students hastily grabbed their things amid much whispering about the strange behavior of their teacher.

Hermione gave a wave to Harry and approached the desk. In a voice perhaps a bit more proper than needed, she asked him, "You asked for me, sir?"

A flash of pain crossed his features at her words. He was standing and came close to her, almost reaching out his arms. "Hermione…" Now that she was here, he was at a loss for words. He decided to do away with the trite phrases and embellishments he often heard from the students. There would only be honesty. "I apologize for making you believe that a f-family with you at some point would not be acceptable. That was not my intention. I merely meant that at no point in my history has that even been a possibility. I believed that it was something that would never come to pass. If you believe differently," he said, picking at a piece of lint on his jacket cuff, "then, in time, I will be amenable to conversation."

He continued to look at the floor, coward that he was with her, not wanting to see her reaction. Slowly, he felt her arms come around him, and his breath exhaled as the smell of her reached his nose. Dipping his head down to nuzzle her hair, he heard her whisper, "I don't like fighting with you."

"I don't care for it either."

"Good. Next time, we'll talk, and I won't storm off. Deal?"

"Agreed."

Hermione gave a contented sigh as she snuggled her face into his chest. "I love you, Severus."

He felt Petrified and stiffened as though she had cast it instead of just speaking. In all honesty, he could not remember those words ever being spoken to him. Sure, at some point when he was a child, a family member, possibly the grandmother he had mentioned to Hermione, must have told him that. And his mother too. However, he had been nine at the death of his grandmother. Fourteen at the death of his mum. Any mention of love was a quarter century in the past.

The panic wanted to overwhelm him. He felt like letting himself slip underneath the tidal wave, sticking his head in the sand, or pulling his head back in his shell.

But he remembered what they had just agreed. To talk. To commune. Severus could remember what he had confessed to himself long ago. And if he wasn't lying to himself, he should be honest with her too. That what he had promised. Honesty.

"It's okay," she said. "You don't have to-"

"Your sentiments are returned."

He heard the impudent witch giggle at him. Sighing, he tried again. "I...feel the same." Dammit, why was this so difficult? Closing his eyes, he whispered, "I love you too, Hermione."

There. That wasn't so hard. Maybe he just had to whisper it, as though it were their own little secret and not something that he had to share with the world just yet.

She squeezed him tight, and he squeezed her back.

Suddenly, he jerked away as they heard the next class of students come down the hall.

"Come to my chambers later? We can work on the potion? I have an interesting story to tell you about your little king as well."

"Sure, after dinner?"

He nodded, and he watched as the woman who loved him left the room.

"What're you staring at?" he snarled at the incoming fourth years. "Take your seats, and read the board!"

~~HGSS~~

Hermione sat on the couch in Severus's rooms, holding her sides as she cried.

"He shredded his boot? He literally shredded it? Oh, I wish I could have seen that! I bet he was so angry!" she cried with glee, picturing a furious Lucius.

"Yes, well, his being back into the scenario means I will have to have a chat with Draco to assure that nothing has changed."

Agreeing with him, she went to her chess set and picked up the white king to coo at him in her pleasure. He seemed to preen under her affectionate gaze.

"So, how did Lucius get free?" she questioned.

"I'm sure his vault at Gringott's could answer that for you," he answered wryly.

Hermione considered the implications and wished it weren't true that money really did buy everything. "I really don't care for that man," she told him. "Is he a friend?"

"No," he said seriously. "Once, at the start of this whole mess, while I was still in school, Lucius Malfoy was someone to be admired. Someone to emulate. I followed his footsteps right to Voldemort's door, thinking nothing but of being spurned by Lily and revenge against my father, never imagining my mother would be rolling in her grave. Lucius saw great promise in me. We were inseparable for a time, and this was how I came to be Draco's godfather. I know not of how the boy came to know of my true loyalties. I only know that after that night in the tower, when…when-"

"Yes, I know," she said. "Go on."

"He asked to be taken to Headquarters. To somewhere where he could be used to fight for Dumbledore. I knew then that the boy was at a crossroads, the same one at which I had been. I was grateful he made the same choice as I. His father, on the other hand, he never changed his views. After I did, we were still close for a time, but I began to distance myself. It was easier to be alone than to be reminded of who I used to be. I think Lucius was questioning whether I had truly let go of his ways. After his comments about you, I am fairly certain he knows the answer. I have not ascertained if this will have an effect on Draco."

Feeling the effects of the day, he retrieved a tea service from Inez. Hermione was about to tell him that she would like a cup as well, but she found it was not needed. The tray had come with two cups side by side, and he grabbed one and added a healthy portion of cream as well as a cube of sugar. She knew that was hers, and he wordlessly handed it to her before making his own and settling back into the sofa with a sigh.

Soon, they were finished, and they both decided it was time to try the potion again.

Coming into the room to find a rapidly boiling cauldron, Hermione and Severus both tied back their hair and rolled up their sleeves.

"I've already added the mandrake," he told her, "and put it under stasis. You've had to do enough of the difficult aspect. I could spare you that at least."

"Thank you," she said." It's appreciated. I had nightmares for two nights from its scream."

Hermione went to the cupboard with the ingredients she had gathered. Flesh of Harry, bone of Merope, and the blood of Nagini from Severus.

"If this works, or is at least close, we have enough of all of these but Harry. I'll have to stab him again if we need more of his contribution," she told Severus while getting out a fresh cutting board.

"Perhaps I can assist," he told her with a wicked smirk.

"Severus, be nice," she admonished. "It has to be from me. From you, it would be expected."

With a grimace, she place the hand, still as fresh as the day she acquired it, on the cutting board and heard the dull thunk of the knife severing a finger. "This is nasty," she protested and moved into position to complete the potion.

Reciting the incantation, she began, "Bone of the mother, knowingly taken, you will undo your son."

Dropping in the finger, she watched the potion hiss and turn green. She looked up at Severus with a questioning look, and he bade her to continue.

"Flesh of the master, unwillingly taken, you will diminish your servant." She shook the jar with the piece of Harry over the cauldron. As it fell in with a splash, the potion turned the same dark blue it had last time.

Hermione looked at Severus, then to the finger lying on the board. The air in the room felt heavy. If this didn't work, they would be back to the drawing board.

"Blood of the friend, voluntarily given, you will eradicate your ally." She dropped in the finger.

And was promptly covered by a layer of Severus as the potion exploded, expelling the shrieking mandrake and splattering most of the walls and jars.

"Holy cow!" exclaimed Hermione. "It really does explode!"

"So it would seem," he told her. "And thankfully, we are mostly dry, but let us change, just in case. If it acts the way it is supposed to, it may try to seep our magic as well."

After they were both in clean and dry clothing, Hermione waited by the cauldron as Severus came up to the writhing and wrinkled plant. Pointing his wand with a hateful glare, he sternly spoke the Killing Curse.

"Avada kedavra!"

They both gaped when it died.

"Do you realize what this means?" she whispered.

"We have concocted a way to assist in the downfall of Voldemort," Severus said with a grin that would rival the Grinch before Christmas.

Hermione threw herself into his arms for the second time that day and began to furiously kiss his face. "This is wonderful! Oh, Harry is going to be so thrilled! I can't believe it worked!"

"Calm yourself, woman."

She laughed at him, loud and strong. He had seen her happy, but rarely had he seen her exultant, and never to this degree. Hermione felt as though she could conjure the biggest and brightest Patronus ever seen. It would feel wonderful to be able to inform Harry that they had a tangible plan and for her friend to be able to relax a little. No one would be harsh if he did not do well on his exams. Everyone, including Voldemort himself, was aware of what the boy was going through. But if she could help him, even in just this way, to enjoy the rest of his Hogwarts career and have fun a bit, then that was something to celebrate.

And, admittedly, she was a little proud to be able to say that she had a hand in bringing down the Dark Lord.

Maybe Severus would even want to have their work published afterwards, and she could see their names side by side.

But right now, she had something else on her mind as she gave him a wicked grin accompanied by a wiggle of her eyebrows.

**Teaser:** "That feels magnificent," she breathed.

**Author's Note:** Italian Translation:

Away from this melancholy

Envy or rage alike

I don't want these words anymore

To be here in my heart

But you... where are you

Where's your smile

What about me if I don't have you

If I don't get your love

Everything will look better

Under the light that will come from the sun

This night will be gone

Darkness will fade out

And under the light of that sun

I will go on looking for you


	33. Chapter 32

**A/N: **First four chapters of The Challenge are up. Go check them out! Please.

**Chapter Thirty Two**

Hermione was ecstatic by the success of the potion. She knew that people came back from Quidditch games completely randy, complaining how the adrenaline from the win was a major turn on. She thought it was just an excuse to try and get one of the girls in a quiet nook of the castle for a quick piece of action. She was wrong.

She pulled him into the living room and sat him on the sofa. Taking off his jacket, which had been hanging open anyway, she tossed it over the chess set, who retaliated with a loud protest.

He tilted he head slightly up to her as they slowly kissed, feeling their adrenaline course through their bodies.

"I love you," she said again, as she straddled his hips. Barely giving him the chance to respond – which he did, even if it was spoken softly – she started to kiss down his jaw, running her hands through the hair she loved so much, when she realized something.

He wasn't really responding. Now, his hands were on her hips, but that's where they stayed. Come to think of it, that's always where they stayed.

"Severus?"

"Hmm?" he responded with half-lidded eyes, clearly enjoying her attentions.

"Why are your hands on my waist?"

He frowned at her, concerned. "Is that not a proper place to put them?"

"Well, no, it is," she said, pulling away to speak with him. "What I meant was, why do they only stay there? You don't need to be proper." With a laugh, she added, "I certainly haven't been."

Her brow wrinkled with concern at the ferocious shade of red her loved one was turning.

"This is true. It's just that, well…with everything that has happened and…my upbringing…I have no experience with women," he mumbled.

Hermione was startled at his statement. It was something she had never considered. "You mean, you've only, you know, with gu-"

"No," he interjected. "I'm not bent. Nor have I ever been. I haven't done this at all."

She gasped despite herself. "You mean you're a vir-"

"Yes," he hissed. "Merlin, wasn't it obvious?"

She thought about their times together. True, there hadn't been that many so far, but the only things he had touched were her hips and her hair. Not even when he had her on the table had he touched her.

"Well, I just figured with me being a student still and Harry's friend, you were a bit reticent. I hadn't considered the notion that you were just simply inexperienced!" she exclaimed as he winced at her outburst. "Sorry. I guess, I just, well, had I known, I would have done things a bit differently."

"I apologize. I should not have told you," he said, crossing his arms over his chest in some measure of comfort.

"No, you absolutely should have told me. I don't mind. At all, honest. I just would have been more…instructional, I suppose. I just figured you were a bit shy."

"No, it's not just that I'm shy."

"Well," she told him, sliding off his lap to step between his legs, "You only had to say something." Taking his hands, she placed them on her hips again. "Explore."

"I beg your pardon?" he asked, with only the slightest hitch. Circe, his voice almost cracked like a fourth year.

"I was remiss in not expressing to you that you have the same liberties I have taken. By all means, explore. You may touch and do whatever you wish. I'm sorry I didn't make that clear before."

He regarded her as though she had suddenly grown a second head. As strange as it seemed that she would offer herself to him, Severus reminded himself that she had expressed her love – twice now – had willingly pleasured him, and had no qualms about his touch or his presence.

His inner Slytherin realized this was a golden opportunity not to be wasted as he slowly kneaded the flesh at her hips, aware of the corresponding twitch of his groin.

"You're sure you don't mind?"

"Don't pinch me or tickle my hip joints, and we'll be fine," she told him.

"Duly noted."

She kissed him again as he slowly brought his hands up her sides, taking her shirt along with it. Grasping the shirt, she pulled it over her head and added it to the pile on the chessboard.

Standing before him in her bra, she watched as he took in the sight. He regarded her slim form and wondered how he was going to be able to control himself. She was so small, he felt like the slightest pressure would break her, even though he knew she was made of steel.

Leaning forward, he lightly touched his lips to her stomach as his hands explored her bum. Laying her hands on his shoulders, she arched her back, giving him full access.

He cocked his head as he looked at her, reaching for the zipper on her Muggle denims. "Anything you want," she repeated and helped him undo the fly.

Stepped out of them, she stood again, now in nothing but her simple undergarments. The cotton bra and matching boy shorts were probably not the most enticing choice. Hermione now wished she had worn something a little sexier and a little less functional.

But considering he was looking as her as though she should be devoured, she wasn't going to complain.

"Gods, you're gorgeous," he told her in a voice filled with wonder.

Hermione liked that voice. She took his hand and placed one on her rear and one on her breast.

Severus decided that it was time the last vestiges of his bachelorhood fell, and he scooped up the scantily clad witch, carrying her into his bedroom.

He gently laid her on his bed, and she took in the huge four-poster in the room. Covered in a deep bronze comforter, it was the focal point of an otherwise very simple room, with the only other furniture being an armoire next to a chair. No portraits were on the walls, just a few sconces with long tapered candles.

Sinking into the soft bed, Hermione tried to imagine him in here, tossing as he slept or flicking her wand for music, and wondered if there would ever come a time when he could simply turn over and grasp her for comfort instead.

Hermione felt tiny all alone in his bed, but soon he had his lips on her again, and she forgot all about her loneliness.

It was his turn to kiss down her collarbone, down between her breasts, all the way down past her navel with abandon. He loved feeling her writhe beneath his touch. His hands were everywhere as they stroked and felt the firm muscles of her arms, her shoulders, and her stomach. She wasn't a Quidditch player herself, but she was very slender.

When his finger ran across a patch of rough flesh, he inquired about it.

"Dolohov," she said. "I told you that you weren't the only one with scars. I just don't wear bikinis anymore."

The angry slash molded around her from under her right breast around to her back. He kissed it as well. "You are now a beautiful lioness, instead of a pesky kneazel."

She stifled a laugh as he continued to tenderly caress her skin. He sat back, admiring the witch sprawled on his bed, and his hands came forward to touch her face. Brushing the delicate cheekbones and curving around her eyes, she moaned lightly as he took the opportunity to stroke her hair and rub her scalp.

"That feels magnificent," she breathed.

Bringing his hands down to the center of her again, he asked, "May I take this off?"

"Of course." She sat up and reached behind her to remove her bra when he stilled her hands.

"I want to do it."

Her hands moved to holding up her hair as he reached around her. He fumbled for a moment with the clasp, but his fingers were more nimble than most, she expected.

Severus slid her bra off her arms and marveled as her breasts were freed. The smooth pink skin looked so soft and almost glowed in the candlelight.

"You can touch," she encouraged.

With a slight pause, one hand came up to oh-so-gently brush the rosy orbs. His fingertips ran over her nipple, and it puckered in response.

"Luscious, lovely lips," he said as he kissed her gently. "Beautiful, blossoming bosoms."

She laughed softly. "Better than what they've been called in the past." At his questioning look, she clarified, "Sweater kittens."

Shaking his head at the immaturity of dunderheads who dared look at his Hermione, he continued to, well, softly pet the sweater kittens.

"That feels nice," Hermione told him.

With a look to her face, he slowly brought his mouth to her breast and snaked out his tongue to taste. The soft spongy flesh felt exquisite, and he knew if he leaned over her much more, she would be able to feel just how attractive he found her.

Gently, he took her nipple into his mouth, and he groaned before she could, but hers just added to his own gratification. Feeling empowered that he was able to bring her pleasure, he began to lavish one breast while kneading the other with his free hand. Not knowing how strongly he should grasp, he was cautious in his touch. Her breasts were not overly large, but his hands were still able to encompass them, and Hermione loved the feel of his slightly roughened palms against her skin.

She was barely able to stop herself from ripping off her panties and telling him to take her, therefore she was thrilled when his hand slowly began to work its way down her side.

Severus was encouraged by her lifting up her rear off the bed so that he could take down her undergarments. "Is this still acceptable?"

"Definitely yes. You have me really, really turned on right now, and if you didn't do that, I was going to have to do it for you."

With a raised eyebrow, he slowly took off her last article of clothing and felt his erection strain to be free. Once they had been removed, he simply stared at her. The soft patch of brown hair, the hourglass waist, and the perfectly edible breasts, all laid out like a buffet for him to feast on. He doubted he had ever seen anything he wanted to nibble on more.

After a moment, she told him in a cheeky voice, "It isn't polite to stare."

"I have no idea where to begin," he answered truthfully.

Reaching up, she guided him to her lower stomach and placed his hand flat there. "Touch where you'd like, Severus. I'll tell you if I don't like something."

He rubbed a few circles there, holding his breath as he brought his hand lower. When she didn't flinch or shy away, he lightly touched her thatch of hair with slightly shaking fingers.

Hermione felt tightness in her own stomach, not just from nerves, and she knew he would find her ready for whatever he decided to pursue.

A gasp escaped her as he brought one finger down her delicate seam.

He paused at the noise. "Is this alright?"

"Better than," she squeaked out. "Please keep going."

He spread her legs further apart as he explored her feminine folds. She was warm and slick, and he soon found her entrance. Slowly he inserted an exploring finger and felt her grasp him. He wiggled his finger, feeling the pebbled flesh inside as his free hand gently rubbed her quivering stomach.

"Gods, that feels good," she purred. "Up here is my clitoris. I usually need stimulation of both to climax. Not everyone does, I guess, but most women do."

Taking note, he simply brought a thumb up to find the little bud of nerves he knew she was referring to and rubbed it while keeping the other finger inside her.

"Oh my god," she said. "How did you know to do that?"

He shrugged, and he suddenly felt her hand grasp for the fly on his trousers.

"Take them off," Hermione instructed. "I want to feel you."

He stopped what he was doing long enough to rid himself off his trousers and pants, leaving on just the shirt. He was kneeling on the bed beside her, and she reached down to grasp him and began to stroke him as he did the same with her. Soon they found a mutual rhythm for them both, and she felt the first drop of his pre-cum roll down her hand.

Severus felt a patch of skin inside her that felt a little rougher than the rest as he felt the taut layer of skin behind it that he knew indicated her hymen. He was relieved to know that that, at least, they would be able to experience together. It wasn't something that had had a bearing on his life much in the past, but it was an issue that had become much more relevant in the past few weeks.

Giving the rough patch a rub, he was rewarded with Hermione arching her back with her eyes tightly closed. "G-spot," she managed. "Oh, damn."

Smirking at her epithet, he maneuvered so that she could still stroke him if she wished as he leaned over from the side and spread her legs further, and with a glance up to her, replaced his thumb with his tongue.

She was…salty. And slick. Like caviar. The little button he sought even reminded him of the tempting delicacy. And hearing her gasp, her hips trying to rise off the bed, made him think this was a task he would enjoy performing. If she received half the enjoyment he did when she gave him pleasure, he could comprehend the allure.

"Oh, God," she cried. "Oh, Merlin, oh damn." Finally, she gave up trying to speak, and Severus merely heard little gasps and mews.

She was still able to focus enough to keep up her ministrations on him. Hermione's hand reached between his legs to confidently grasp his hanging sack and gently fondle it in her palm. His hips jutted forward in response to her, and she loved the sight of him right now. His black hair was still tied back from brewing. The white shirt was half unbuttoned, and the tails were hanging down over his rear. His thick member was in her hand, and his eyes were shut as he concentrated on his first taste of the fairer sex. That thought alone sent a vivid rush through her body, making her want to climax.

He was nearly at the point of no return and hoped he could bring her there before himself. He had heard that turning on a woman and bringing her to completion could be very difficult at times. Would he even be able to on his first attempt?

Her gasps were becoming quick, and he felt her tremble and jerk underneath him as her hands tightened around him and began to move faster, making him want to meet her strokes with thrusts of his hips as he wondered if she was nearing climax.

"I'm close, Severus, oh, God," she told him almost in a pant.

Well, that answered that.

He felt her tighten inexorably around his finger as he suckled the little nibble in her folds. Her wetness increased, and she shuddered in pleasure, gasping, with one hand around him and the other grasping the bedcovers. Watching her in bliss triggered him – he was amazed he had lasted this long, and soon Hermione felt the warm liquid that signaled his own release.

"That was brilliant," she told him as he looked at the wrinkled pad of his finger and felt the cool air across the moisture on his chin. She watched him regard the wetness that clung to his finger with interest in his deep black eyes. "Are you going to taste it?" she asked with a grin.

"Definitely not. I already have."

It was his turn to wear the cat-that-ate-the-canary grin.

Hermione didn't mind being the canary.

"Tomorrow," she whispered, "when I'm seated in your class, I'm going to be picturing you naked."

"Minx."

~~HGSS~~

The next morning, she awoke bright and early. Well, earlier than she normally did. Hermione was going to be shadowing Severus today, and she wanted to make a good impression. Pinning back her hair, she applied just a touch of makeup and put on what she hoped would be a tastefully sophisticated outfit underneath her robes.

Harry was still rubbing his eyes when he saw her come out of the girls dormitory and offered to escort her down to breakfast.

"Why are you up so early, 'Mione?" he asked with a yawn. "You never have to be up so early on a Thursday."

"I'll be in Potions today, with Professor Snape," she told him, mindful of her words in the hallway.

"Oh, I'm sorry," he replied automatically, which reminded Hermione of something she needed to do.

No one was paying any attention to the Head Girl and the Wonder Boy as they walked through the quiet halls this early in the morning. No one saw Hermione Granger search in her bag for something she knew had to be in there somewhere.

And no one heard the holler of the boy as she once again stabbed him in the arm. "Piss, Hermione! Will you stop doing that?"

"Sorry, Harry," she said, almost apologetic. "That should be the last time. It's not my fault you worked in the potion."

Hermione didn't say a word as she let that statement sink into the brain of her sleepy friend.

"You've done it? It worked? We have a potion against Volde-"

"Shh!" she admonished. "You're in the hall! But yes, it did, so yes, we have. I needed a bit more of this I'm afraid," she told him, holding up the jar, "but it really should be the last time. We completed the second trial last night."

"Brilliant. You are just brilliant." At her glare, he amended, "And Professor Snape, too, I suppose."

Hermione wondered if the day would ever come when the two of them would be cordial about each other without thinking about it. She doubted it, but then, they had made long strides already.

There weren't many students in the Great Hall that early. In fact, Hermione couldn't remember the last time she had been in the hall that early. With only a few present, she was free to keep an eye on the silent and contemplative (and brooding and antisocial) man up at the High Table where she would be seated next year.

Taking in a quick cup of tea and a bagel, she watched as Severus finished his meal and left, and she knew she should shortly follow. Hermione waved to her friends at the Gryffindor table and saw Neville wave from where he was seated with Luna. Bidding them goodbye as well, she made her way down to Severus's office.

Knocking on his door as she let herself in, she saw Severus – now fully in Professor Snape mode – give her an appreciative glance at her attire, and she was pleased he did so openly.

Severus motioned for her to follow him into the lab, and they wordlessly began preparing some of the ingredients the students would be using that day. The cutting, dicing, and stewing was still up to the individual, but a few of them needed to cleaned, or separated, and such before the students received them.

"Is this how you normally spend your mornings?" she asked.

"Yes," he replied. "Or brewing. This was often time to bring my grading current when I was called away by Voldemort as well. Now I find if that is not needed, I can occasionally take some time to do research and experiment."

"As a teacher, do you find spare time difficult to come by?"

"Not usually. There are times when it can be a burden, but mostly I can grade while the students brew and read. The detentions can be tiresome, as well as the tasks that go along with being Head of House. Dealing with the squabbles of imbeciles is not a way I care to spend my evenings."

Hermione smiled, trying to imagine coming to Severus for things she had come to Minerva for through the years. Arguments with Harry and Ron, questions about regulations, missing home, her first menstrual cycle.

She imagined that some things must be pushed off to Madam Pomfrey.

Finishing their work, they both gathered the plants and brought them into the classroom to be kept aside until they were needed. It was almost time for his first class, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff third years if she remembered correctly, so she took a seat in the corner.

As the students filed in, they took notice of her there and walked a little straighter. The chatter was at a minimum however, probably due to the fact that this was Professor Snape's class and not that this was the first time they had seen Hermione in their classroom.

She wondered if it unnerved him, having her there taking notes while he taught. It would be quite difficult for her, she knew, if the situation were reversed. Hermione didn't know if it would be better or worse for him, knowing she was making good on her promise.

Worse, she decided. Unless he liked knowing she was picturing him naked. Well, naked…but with the cape. It was, after all, her mind.

Notes were made on his address to the students, the layout of his classroom, and the structure of each period. She recorded the points he took, the way he disciplined, and how long he lectured. A pattern of sorts began to emerge. He lectured less for the higher grades, but he took points less as well. Severus was also much more intimidating to the younger students.

And he was significantly more pleasant in any class that didn't include Harry Potter and his faithful red-haired sidekick.

Well, perhaps pleasant wasn't the correct word. Less vile, perhaps.

Also, she noticed that, judging from her own experiences and the slightly frightened looks from the younger students around her, he was making an effort to be kind in his classes. Sometimes the Professor Snape came through, but it was almost as though he were still trying to be Severus in front of Hermione.

Hermione kept a grin to herself, wondering if this was how he would teach from now on. He was free to make his own choices now and hopefully happy with her at his side, both in life and as a colleague.

After his last class, his patience must have been wearing thin. She heard him hiss at a sixth year that he wrote like Miss Granger.

"Thank you," said the boy.

"That is not a compliment," he informed the lad, who shot a look over at Hermione. "You have a tendency towards prolixity."

"Prolixity? Sir?"

"Yes. You and Miss Granger are both very sedulous in obfuscating with prolixity. Now out of my sight."

This boy was smarter than most of the students Hermione had seen, and he did not ask twice, but merely left.

She finished her notes and came up to his desk where he was seated, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Rough day, Professor?" she asked.

He merely grunted.

She leaned over his desk, intentionally baring what cleavage she had. "I might know a few ways to improve it."

Severus's first thought was to dismiss her outright. After all, they were still in his classroom. However, that had been his last period of the day, and everyone knew that he was unavailable except during office hours, unless specifically planned in advance. Students did not just pop in to chat with Professor Snape.

Looking at the little witch in front of him, he decided, why the hell not? The opportunity to snog a pretty witch had not presented itself before in a classroom. Might as well take advantage now.

"Perhaps you can demonstrate a few of them?" he asked, attempting to be suave but ending up more hopeful.

Hermione came around the desk and sat on his lap with a smile, lightly touching her lips to his in a kiss once, then twice, before finally leaning into him and giving him one proper. He tilted his head into hers and brought one hand up to trail through her hair as they deepened the kiss. Eyes closed, they enjoyed the quiet moment together.

Until the door opened with a bang.

And in tumbled Ron and Lorrell, clearly mid-snog and looking for a quiet place.

"Bloody hell!" exclaimed Ron.

"Out!" said Severus as Hermione jumped off his lap.

Hermione was having bad flashbacks to other times she had been rudely interrupted by Ron and a female, only this time, Hermione was with someone else as well. "What are you doing, Ronald?"

"Well, it's just that this room is always empty," said Ron.

"Because he goes to do whatever," said Lorrell, indicting the professor.

"So, we come in here for privacy, you know?" said Ron.

"You use my classroom for your…your..!"

"Severus," Hermione warned.

The Severus in question appeared in danger of popping a vein when he told the couple, "Out with you, and take care not to return. One place in this castle has to be free from you, Weasley, and this shall be it! Ten points from Gryffindor!"

"But…" Lorrell interjected as Ron opened his mouth to speak as well.

With a wave of Snape's wand, the door was shut in their faces with a bang twice as loud as the one it had created upon opening.

"What an idiot," Hermione told him. "But that was rather liberating."

"Agreed."

Outside the door, they heard a loud male voice exclaim, "Wait. Were they snogging?" followed by a throaty female giggle.

Before long, Hermione left him to his duties, and she had a feeling Ron should feel very lucky he was not serving detention that evening. And it certainly would have been deserved. She tried to overlook the fact that technically, she and Severus had been doing the same thing, even if it was his classroom. Wondering about what lay in store, she pondered if they would break in her room as well, once she began teaching.

As she walked down the hallway, she became aware of that all-too-familiar portrait following her. If he was this obnoxious dead, Hermione could only fathom what Severus had had to deal with when Dumbledore was alive.

Hermione stopped in the middle of the hall with her back to the painting, waiting for him. She stood there with her arms crossed as she heard an indignant "Hey!" and an "Excuse you" coupled with the ex-Headmaster's apologies.

"Can I help you, sir?" she asked without turning.

"Been enjoying your time with Severus, I see."

Fiercely looking down the hallway to see if the daft old man was spouting off her secrets to all and sundry, Hermione bristled at his words. She didn't know if it was a product of her new acquaintance or if Albus's passing allowed her to see more of the picture, but she found she didn't really care for the old headmaster that much. She cast a few charms to discourage trespassers down this corridor and cast a Muffliato for good measure.

"Things are going well between us, if that's what you're asking."

"Indeed, my dear. I hope you make him very happy, and he, you." The old man stood in a frame where the lady in residence must have been out for a chat, leaving her chintz armchair and tea service behind. "Well," said Dumbledore, looking down at the steaming cup. "Don't mind if I do. Now, tell me, Hermione. Were you two able to come up with something successful to give to Tom?"

"Yes, sir. We were able to use Nagini, Harry, and Merope to concoct a viable solution. It worked on Professor Snape's exceedingly enchanted mandrake," she told him.

"Excellent, my dear, excellent. Have you spoken to Minerva yet?"

"No, not that I'm aware. It's been rather busy for us both, and I don't think the opportunity has presented itself," she said a bit uncertainly.

"I believe we will need to call an Order meeting. This certainly does change things. Tell me, Miss Granger, do you believe that your friends are going to want to fight?"

Hermione thought about what she knew of her compatriots. Harry and Ron were a given, as were Ginny, Neville, and Luna. "Well, Ginny has been running the DA this year with Harry and Ron. I know they have several students who are turning into excellent combatants, and Ron is a thorough strategist. Lorrell will follow Ron. I don't think she wants to fight if she can help it. Maybe she would be better assisting Madam Pomfrey or watching the younger students. I think even Katie Bell would want to assist. She has grown rather fond of Charlie Weasley, and, according to Lorrell, they are carrying on quite the correspondence. She's apparently mentioned wishing to join the Order after Hogwarts. We actually have a plan in place in case the castle comes under siege. Maybe we should all discuss it."

"That may be in order. However, a meeting of that magnitude will have to wait a few weeks. Several of the Order cannot be contacted at the moment for fear of disrupting their placements. And it would take time to organize everyone and try to bring them together without setting off any alarms. I'm afraid many people are being watched, most notably the Weasleys, Kingsley, and Remus."

Hermione nodded and shifted the pack with her notes and books. "Understandable. We have a possible application method and delivery for the potion as well, but we would need to discuss what the aftermath and possible outcomes are."

"You have indeed been spending too much time with Severus. I'm sure it does you both well. There is nothing wrong with a professor dating either, Hermione."

Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, she quickly told him she would talk with McGonagall about when the meeting could be and told him goodbye.

It had certainly been a whirlwind week for her. The completion of the potion and of her argument with Severus. The completion of herself as well, she thought with a laugh. She had tried not to think about his admission to her too much, telling herself that is wasn't a big deal. Hermione had never slept with Ron – thank Merlin for small favors – so it wasn't like she was one to talk, and yet, she still found herself rather surprised. It was probably a sore subject, hence why it hadn't come up in conversation before, but she knew it wouldn't be long before she ended up asking him about it.

And who knows? Maybe it wouldn't be long before she did something about it as well.

**Teaser:** "Get back, Hermione!" Severus shouted, but it was too late.


	34. Chapter 33

**A/N: **My 500th review challenge story is now posted and complete. Thanks Anubis_Ankh! Much love to Shuldham and Liongirl for being so thorough and consistent! This would not be what it is without them.

Sorry for the slightly tardy update. The site was updating. :/

**Playlist**: http:/ /www .youtube .com/view_play_list?p=B8145D09346177BF

**Chapter Thirty Three**

It was a pleasant and sunny day. May in the Highlands was never too warm, and he was comfortable in his robes as they walked the street in Hogsmeade.

Severus was grateful for an afternoon to spend with Hermione, even if he had had to practically sell his soul to Minerva to get her to let him out of the castle for a few hours. Hogwarts might be a very large cage, but it was still a cage.

Hermione laughed just then, radiant in the sunshine as they strolled up the path to the castle. Neither had a care in their mind for a change, just enjoying the brief respite.

Such it was then that neither noticed the brooms swooping down from the sky. Four figures in long black robes, robes with which Severus was all too familiar, dropped down in front of the couple. No expressions could be seen since their hoods were up, and the Death Eater masks were firmly on their faces.

"Get back, Hermione!" Severus shouted, but it was too late.

The tallest figure – was that a wisp of blonde hair underneath his hood? – pointed his wand at Hermione. With a smirk, the oily voice spoke. "Aufero veneficus!"

"No!" Severus cried, watching in horror as the love of his life crumpled at his feet. "Not her magic!"

"Next time think twice about your service to the Dark Lord. She belongs as a Muggle, and as a Muggle she shall be."

And with that, Severus woke up from the vicious night terror. Sweat caused the sheets to cling to his pale form as he felt the violent tremors on his skin and the bone-deep shaking of his muscles. His chest heaved as he reminded himself it was only a dream. It was just a dream, and somewhere in Gryffindor Tower, a bushy-haired young woman was off in the land of Nod, clueless to his fear and worry.

He quickly opened the bedside drawer and removed the enchanted wand there. Severus was comforted to hear it play, to hear something as it should be.

When the birds began chirping that morning, sleep had still not found him.

~~HGSS~~

Hermione Granger woke with a start.

N.E.W.T.s were due to start in exactly one month.

Only one month until it was known if she had really _learned_ what was taught in class. One month until she found out if she could truly blend into the Wizarding world. It was more important now than ever that she did. With her parents gone, there was no going back.

She needed to study.

Hermione was glad that Friday was a light day for her. With only Potions and Transfiguration, she would be able to get back to the common room early and begin the intensive and grueling schedule she would follow until the tests.

And the meeting. Surely they would have the meeting to discuss Voldemort soon. Why? Why did he have to pick this year? Wouldn't it be even more credible to your followers if you tried to defeat the Chosen One after he had graduated and become a man?

But of course not. Hermione had to sit her own N.E.W.T.S, somehow drag the Procrastinating One and the Ginger Sidekick through theirs as well, and help strategize the assault on the Dark Lord, all because she had had some brainy idea that happened to pan out. This was ridiculous.

She was going to have to completely rewrite her planner.

Her head was completely buried in her notebook during her morning meal when she felt a tap on her shoulder.

"What is it, Harry? Can't you see I'm busy? We have four weeks until N.E.W.T.s, and I'm trying to see if I can work in Ron's chess club with the extra hours I know he is going to need in Charms."

"Are you and Snape fighting?" he asked.

She head snapped up from her book. "Of course not. I'm not moping, Harry, I just have things that have been put off for far too long."

"No, not you," said Harry, tilting his head toward the High Table. "Him. He hasn't taken his eyes off you all morning, and I don't think he's touched his meal."

Attempting to be discreet, Hermione slowly maneuvered around to look at Severus. He looked horrible. She could tell from there that his eyes were bloodshot with dark circles. He was absentmindedly stirring his tea while he stared at her. She gave him a weak smile that he barely returned.

Something was definitely bothering him, but at least now he picked up his fork and began to eat.

She needed to finish and head off to class, so she put the matter on the backburner for now.

In Professor Miller's class, the students were shocked to be assigned a five-foot essay on the properties and technical difficulties of inanimate to animate Transfiguration.

"I'm a new teacher," she told the class, "and even though I'm not going to be here next year, I totally have to prove myself with your grades, man, so you're getting nothing less than O's on your N.E.W.T.s if I have to drag you in there kicking and screaming!"

Hermione frantically dug out her planner and began scribbling in it again with a worried frown. "How am I supposed to finish this essay and work on my Charms project? This is going to be a nightmare!"

Harry and Ron just shook their heads. It was nice to know that in seven years, some things hadn't changed.

Severus's strange mood was all but forgotten by the time Hermione reached her Potions class, and he was careful to conceal any indication that he was still anything less than his typical bitter self.

When the doors flew open with a bang, Hermione's head never even lifted off the table where she was erasing a bubble and changing a few time slots. Slipping the notebook in a bag, she looked up right before he would have been forced to take points, or at least make a snide remark or two.

Professor Snape had apparently not gotten the memo that today was the day to start cramming the little blighters for their finals. If they had any sense at all, they would have been reviewing from the beginning. Since they did not, in fact, have any sense, they would hopefully realize later on that he had been reinforcing the material that was most likely to be on the test all year long, and in a much more memorable fashion than any textbook.

After class, Hermione was intentionally slow at putting away her ingredients so that she would have a moment alone with him.

Severus, for he had dropped the Professor Snape for now, was standing tall, leaning with one hip against his desk. As she came close, he looked down his big nose at her, as if daring her to ask what the problem was.

Walking up to him, Hermione just slowly placed her hand on his crossed arms. "I've got to get going, I promised Harry and Ron we could start intensively revising this afternoon for a few hours, but maybe I can come say hi later?"

He relaxed, realizing she had picked up on his nonverbal cues and was not going to pressure him about what the issue was.

"That would be welcome, dear. Now go see what the cretins are up to."

As Hermione prepared to leave the room, she was startled to see McGonagall walk in the door to the classroom. "Oh, hello, Headmistress."

"Hermione," the older woman greeted. "Would you care to meet me in my office for a moment?"

"Not at all, I'll head there now," said Hermione, a bit surprised.

"Thank you. I'll be up in a moment."

They both watched the girl leave before McGonagall turned to her Potion's Master with a wicked grin. "Deer? I trust you were not speaking to your Patronus, Severus?"

He fixed her with a fierce glare. "What do you want, you meddling harridan?"

"Now, I was merely inquiring as to whom you were speaking with. I daresay I've never heard any such epithet from you before, ever. Is there something you wish to tell me?" she asked him with a smile still toying at her lips.

"No," he curtly replied.

"Is there something you're going to tell me anyway?"

Severus just continued to glare. "Probably not."

"There is nothing to be ashamed of. I bet almost any wizard alive would be at her mercy if she so chose, and I already know how you feel. You must be a very lucky man. And I'm sure she keeps you on your toes."

"In a manner of speaking."

"Oh?" she asked him, feigning surprise. "Or does she keep on other things instead?"

"Now you're just being rude."

"Oh, is that how it is? Well, don't worry. I'm sure it'll happen sooner or later," the witch told him, watching the play of emotions across his face.

"How'd you…" He stopped himself. "Out!"

"Really, Severus, if you need any advice on how to woo a young witch, I'm sure I can-"

"OUT!"

The protesting woman felt herself being repelled from his room as the door slammed shut behind. She chuckled to herself. Sometimes, it really was just too easy, but someone had to give him a taste of his own medicine.

Up in the headmistress's office, Hermione had settled into a chair to wait until Minerva returned from her business with Severus, and that's where Minerva found her, head back in a textbook, when the woman came in a few minutes later.

"I don't want to keep you long," said the headmistress with an oddly knowing smile. "I know you have friends waiting on you. How have things been for you?"

"Busy, as you know, but manageable."

"That's good to hear," she answered, pouring tea for herself after Hermione refused. "And Albus tells me your potion was successful?"

Hermione nodded. "Yes, as far as we can tell, it was."

"That is good news to hear. I have set an Order meeting for the fourth of June. I'm afraid it's going to take that long just to get everyone in the same country."

"Understandable. Is everyone going to be available then?"

"They should be," said Minerva, taking a sip of her tea. "You'll be sure to inform Mister Potter and the rest? I believe Molly may consent for Ginevra to be there as well. For those students who will be coming, we will plan on leaving from my office at the appointed time. Now, when are you planning on informing them about Severus and yourself?"

Hermione's eyes got wide. "You know? Of course you know. I thought we were being so careful!"

"I suspected but only found out today from Severus himself." At Hermione's startled look, she clarified. "I was in the hall and fortunate enough to hear him call you dear. That is something I never thought I would ever hear come out of his mouth. You must be a very special witch."

"Thank you," Hermione responded with a little blush. "I'm sure he wasn't pleased to know you heard him."

"Not especially, no," said Minerva, smiling to herself as she replayed the clip in her mind. She really shouldn't bait him, but there were too few, in her opinion, who were willing to step up to the plate with the Bat of the Dungeons. "But I think he will be fine. Have you two discussed it?"

"Not really. We're kind of taking things one day at a time. I mean, it's hard enough just trying to make things work with just the two of us involved. I can't imagine public knowledge would simplify that. I'm already working against Severus himself!" exclaimed Hermione, finally glad to have someone willing to talk to her about it. She thought about the last few weeks, the "return of her sentiments" and his willingness to show her that he cared about her such as using endearments. "Perhaps he's getting over that though," she added with a smile.

"I imagine he would if given enough space and time. You have probably helped him along for quite some time, am I right?"

"Perhaps," she said, knowing full well that she had been leading him along, unknown to them both, since probably that first day they met in Flourish and Blotts. "But even still, I doubt we would have an acceptable reception. I can only imagine what the public would think."

Minerva thought about the young witch's situation. Since she was dating a professor, she would be accused of using all sorts of rude methods to get good grades, ignoring the fact that they were the same marks she had received since she was eleven and in every single class besides Divination.

He would be called worse.

"I think, Hermione, that it will be up to you as to when you decide to speak to the Order. I can understand your reticence, but I think you may find most of them to be more agreeable than you expect. As far as the Wizarding world at large, well, I imagine you will know when the time is right."

Hermione considered the truth in her words. The most important people in her life already knew the situation – besides Ron's parents – and they were all accepting after they had gotten over the initial shock. Even Ron was coming around, slowly.

"Minerva?" Hermione asked. "What is the policy on professors in relationships? I've noticed no one here seems to have them. Are we going to be breaking a rule?"

"Only an unspoken one, and one that is long overdue for breaking! It was believed when the school opened that in order to properly teach and train magical children, a professor had to enter the equivalent of a Muggle convent. There was to be no relations, vows were spoken, rules were passed, and their life was dedicated to the task. Over the years, the rules have changed and the vows are no longer required, but many still feel it is the obligation of a professor to focus their time and energy here. And, quite frankly, with a staff as small as ours and with a job this time consuming, it can be quite difficult for any of us to find time to socialize and form outside attachments. The fact that you have, and he has as well, is wonderful. Now, I do not want you to feel obligated to make this work for our sake, Hermione. But do know that you and Severus have the full backing of the school should you decide to go public. I have weathered worse things as far as he's concerned, I assure you."

Hermione chuckled, feeling sardonic. It was true, however. She doubted dating the Gryffindor Princess was going to top killing the beloved headmaster. Minerva McGonagall was quite the spin doctor.

"It means a lot to me to know that. And I'm sure it will to him too, though he'll never tell you. I'm sure we'll tell people, in time. If and when it comes to that. It's kind of up to him."

"I believe he feels the same."

~~HGSS~~

The Gryffindor common room was silent, rare for such a lovely evening, but if the younger students dared to create much ruckus, they were quickly shushed by a stern seventh year.

Most of the students were not only laying or sitting somewhere in the room with a book open or notes out, but many of them also had a study schedule from Hermione.

The only sounds that could be heard were the crackling fire, the turning of pages, and the occasional question.

Hermione was laying on her stomach near the fire with Crookshanks curled up sleeping by her leg. Being the only cat in the tower, he was a sort of unofficial mascot and would often get up for periods and go see what another student was up to. He was definitely not a neglected feline.

Focusing on her studies was extremely difficult for Hermione that evening. All she had wanted to do when she woke up was come back here and crack open a book. Now that she had actually done so, all she could think about was Severus. What had been bothering him? Did he know more about Voldemort's plans and was hesitant to share them? Did Draco bring back some tidbit of information that could threaten more of her classmates' families or the school itself?

Whatever it was, she knew that pressing the issue was not wise. He wasn't used to sharing his fears or concerns with others, and she felt that small steps were in order. It had been the same when she had first become friends with Harry, although she would never tell Severus that.

When Harry had come to school from the Dursley's, he had been a boy who lived in a cupboard. He hadn't grown up with friends, a loving grandmother, or a kind neighbor to talk to. It took years before he was really willing to open up to his best friends about his troubles. If he had, it would have changed many things in his life, such as his fifth year when Voldemort had first become aware that he had access into Harry's mind. Only after the death of Dumbledore did he really start to fully communicate.

She had a feeling it would be the same with Severus. Here was a man who had grown up with no one to confide in until he had become an adult and even that person had had ulterior motives. He was going to have to learn to trust Hermione, and that wasn't going to happen if she pressed him about every little thing.

Not to mention, it was just obnoxious.

No, he would tell her if he wished. She would just have to be patient.

Hermione didn't like being patient.

Heaving a sigh, she closed her book with a loud thud and reached for her Arithmancy text.

"You okay there, Hermione?" asked Ginny from where she was reading a Quidditch book.

"Yes, I'm alright, Ginny. How are things with you?"

Ginny shrugged. "I can't complain I suppose. I'm not looking forward to having to do my tests next year though. Or maybe I won't have to. Who knows?" she told Hermione vaguely.

"And why wouldn't you have to?"

The girl shrugged again. "Who knows what can happen in a year? I mean, think back to where we were this time last year. How many people were still alive? Who was on our side in the Order? You were with Ron, I wasn't with Harry, even Neville and Luna hadn't found each other yet."

"I'm fairly certain a lot will have to happen for you to get out of your N.E.W.T.s, Gin," Hermione said confidently.

"And maybe a lot will," Ginny said with a meaningful look to Harry who was watching from over the top of his text. He could tell Hermione was looking as well and quickly ducked back down.

Hermione wasn't going to ask about that either. She had a sinking feeling she really didn't want to know the answer.

"I told Severus I would pop down for a bit. Do you guys mind if I go for a while and come back? I think he gets kind of stir crazy sometimes."

Harry regarded her solemnly, remembering how his professor had appeared that morning. If he had seen Ginny like that, he would want to go to her as well. "No, 'Mione, go on. I think we can handle it from here."

Ron and Lorrell grumbled something along the same lines, each holding up their study schedule.

"This is crazy," Hermione heard Lorrell exclaim. "Why do you guys put up with this?"

"But if we didn't, we'd fail," said Ron.

Hermione giggled softly as she left the Fat Lady and made her way through the cool and quiet castle. It was a bit warmer now with the castle stones basking in the sun during the daytime, but the nights were still as chilly as ever.

She greeted Severus's portrait guardian with a smile as the Count gave her a warning. "He's downtrodden this evening, madam. Take care to avoid his ire."

Hermione agreed that she would and passed through into his chambers. "Hey," she greeted him warmly. "I came to visit."

"And so you have," he responded, still giving her a queer sort of stare.

"Would you like to play some chess?" she offered, hoping to engage him in something that would keep his mind off whatever was bothering him.

"No, not particularly. I fear playing you would be like a duel where one opponent has forgotten his wand."

Well, fair enough, if impolite. "Have you had supper yet?" Maybe he was just a grouch because he was hungry.

"Yes. Inez brought a meal a short time ago."

Alright then. Maybe he hadn't slept well last night. "Would you like me to play for you?"

"That could be advantageous."

She came back with, "Well, you know how I like to be propitious," and began to stretch her fingers to play. "And how are you all doing this evening?" she asked the chess set.

There were a few nods, a couple of shrugs, and a handful of waves as she encouraged them to return to their spots so they could begin to play. "I won't need you guys for a bit though, okay?" she told them and then whispered, "I'd liked to just play for him myself."

They agreed, with her king giving her a knowing grin and a pat on her hand as if to say, "We understand."

Sitting down at the piano, she waited until he had set himself into his chair and turned it to face her. If they ever, _if_ they ever shared quarters, there would have to be some sort of a library with space for a piano.

She drew on her standby. Brickman, of course. He was just too simple, too beautiful, and too versatile. As much as she would have played Rachmaninoff or Debussy for herself, he was a simple man in his musical tastes, as far as she could tell. Nothing with a story for him tonight. No interesting composer parallels, no music theory. Just a clear melody without haste or pounding chords. She waved the black queen forward with her large cello and conjured a chair for her to sit in before she began. (1)

The tinkling music was sort of tintinnabular at first, with short and precise notes denoting the melody. The cello entering shortly after lent a weight to her airy piano to bring it back to the ground. Together they played effortlessly, playing off one another as the song slowly and gently built into a climax that was more of a caress.

Her dear professor had closed his eyes and looked as though he was trying to relax. He also looked like he was not doing a very good job of it. Perhaps a bit of the tightness in his jaw was gone, but overall, he was still quite agitated.

She knew what to play next and motioned for the black queen to go back to the white king.

Hermione held a breath as the familiar notes filled the room. (2)

His song.

The music now had slightly more seriousness, more depth than the previous song. She touched each key as though she were touching his cheek. Pressed them down as though pressing against his lips. Released them as though she was releasing the emotion locked within him herself, watching as the worry fell away.

She did not notice that his eyes had opened, and he was watching her curiously.

This was his song. His song, from her. This was tangible, real evidence that she cared about him. That she was real, and she was here. Severus remembered the first time she played this song, and the welling of tenderness he had felt for her then, though he never would have admitted it. The shock that someone could feel that way towards him, could see through who he pretended to be to who he was and wished others could see, had left a profound impact that he still felt to this day. He remembered the first time he felt longing for Hermione in more than just a mental way. The first time he touched himself to thoughts of her, and the shame he had felt, knowing she was a student.

He almost grinned with the realization that she returned his sentiments fully and had no qualms about intimacy. In fact…

He stood up from his chair, drawing a curious look from her as she continued to play. Severus stood behind her, watching he for a moment, before bending down and whispering in her ear, "Come. I have a desire to…play with something myself."

Her hand movements instantly ceased as she stood and almost ran to the bedroom. Well, she had to do what needed to be done to help him relax, right?

At least, that's what she told herself until he pushed down the collar of her shirt and began to kiss her collarbone.

Then, all thought was gone.

~~HGSS~~

That evening, Hermione came back to the tower on tip toes, sliding whisper quiet underneath her covers so smoothly it could have been a spell.

That was something she actually considered looking into.

Falling into a hard sleep, it was some time before the strange smell brought her awake.

It was the smell of something warm, like wood warmed in the fire or sun-baked pottery.

She drowsily looked on her night stand and on the floor before a thought came into her mind.

Her Galleon.

Reaching to the floor for her discarded robes, she could feel the heat through the fabric and whispered the incantation for the Freezing Charm before taking out the still toasty metal disc. She only read one word.

_Come_.

Tossing on the robe over her nightclothes, she ran like a gazelle back out the portrait hole. Remembering the secret passageways, such as the spiral staircase to the kitchens, startling a few elves baking bread, she followed the quickest path to his quarters.

The Count had no words for her this time and merely opened on sight as she came around the corner and into view.

Inside, Severus was a wreck. Furiously he was pacing the floor, back and forth, like a caged panther. His bloodshot eyes registered little of his surroundings as his sweat-soaked hair stuck to his face.

He was still wringing his hands, trying to quell his shakes and shivers.

As she came in, he brusquely stopped and turned to her, whispering her name like a plea. "Hermione…"

He strode to her, enveloping her in a tight hug that she lightly returned. "I'm here, Severus. I'm here. What is the matter? Are you hurt? Is everyone okay?"

"Yes. I'm unharmed. As are the others," he muffled with his face buried in the hair at her neck.

She felt and heard his raspy breath against her neck as she held him for a moment. "What's wrong?"

Hermione felt him turn his face away from her, and she ran her hand over the back of his head by her cheek.

His voice was clearer now as he answered, "I had a dream."

"A nightmare?" she inquired.

"Yes."

"Would you like to tell me about it?"

She didn't need Legilimency to feel him weighing his options before telling her.

"May we sit down first?" he asked with reservation.

"Here, come on," Hermione answered and instead of the living room, she led him into the bedroom. She took off her bulky robe, leaving herself in sleep pants and a worn Doctor Who tee that read "University of Gallifrey," one of her father's she had salvaged from home.

She lifted the covers while he got into bed, and then nudged him over enough to make room for her too.

Hiding his surprise quite well in her opinion, he complied when she sat against the headboard and drew him to her. With his head resting in her lap as her fingers ran the length of his hair, the night terror didn't seem quite so frighteningly real.

"It's a different scenario each time," he muttered softly. "The first time was in the class room. Once was in Hogsmeade. This time, we were captured."

He grew silent again, breathing in the smell of her, his own personal Amortentia, for comfort before beginning again. "The ending is always similar. Death Eaters come, or Voldemort himself, and they harm you. Once, I was forced to watch as they removed your magic. Once, you were tortured. Tonight, they, they-"

His voice cracked, and he could not finish.

"Shh, it's alright. It was just a dream, and I'm here, and we're okay," she said soothingly as she continued to stroke his hair and tenderly caress his cheek. "I can't say nothing is going to happen, Severus. I won't lie to you. But I won't take any unnecessary risks as long as you don't either."

After a moment of silence she began to sing. (3)

"'Goodnight, my angel, time to close your eyes, and save these questions for another day. I think I know what you've been asking me. I think you know what I've been trying to say. I promised I would never leave you, and you should always know wherever you may go, no matter where you are, I never will be far away.'"

He breathing began to deepen, and she felt him shift and relax into what must be his typical sleeping position. A soft smile graced her lips when she learned he slept on his stomach, lightly grasping the corner of a blanket.

"'Goodnight, my angel, now it's time to sleep, and still so many things I want to say. Remember all the songs you sang for me when we went sailing on an emerald bay. And like a boat out on the ocean  
I'm rocking you to sleep. The water's dark and deep inside this ancient heart. You'll always be a part of me.'"

Hermione sang the bridge, knowing he was almost completely gone now. Her own eyes closed as she rested her head against the headboard, thinking about what the future did in fact hold. It was almost enough to make her wish she was a Seer.

"'Goodnight, my angel, now it's time to dream, and dream how wonderful your life will be. Someday your child may cry, and if you sing this lullaby, then in your heart there will always be a part of me.'"

Would they ever have children? Him and her together? Would they both survive the upcoming confrontation? Fervently she hoped her words were true, that he would be able to have a wonderful life. A free life. A life with no demands, no tricks, no obligations to wizard or man.

"'Someday we'll all be gone, but lullabies go on and on...They never die. That's how you and I will be.'"

She worked her way lower under the covers until his head was on her chest and she was mostly covered. It wasn't the most comfortable position she had slept in, but she wouldn't trade it for anything.

"I love you, Severus," she whispered.

"Mmm…ewtoo," he sleepily responded, and she fell asleep, content in the knowledge that her love was returned.

~~HGSS~~

In the morning, he awoke alone with a still-warm section in his bed accented by the Hermione-scented pillow.

He was angry he had been abandoned until he sat back on the bed to dress and noticed her little note.

_Needed to return for rounds. Just Galleon if you need me. I love you. _

_-Hermione_

The note joined the handkerchief and her birthday note to him inside his desk drawer.

He didn't know what else to do with keepsakes.

**Teaser: **More discussion ensued, and it was decided Severus would accompany Draco to Voldemort's next meeting.

"Are you sure you want to do the next scheduled meeting?" asked Draco, speaking up for the first time.

"Yes, I believe so," said McGonagall. "Why do you ask?"

"Because it's next Friday."


	35. Chapter 34

**Playlist: http:/ /www .youtube .com/view_play_list?p=1050DC295A32936F**

**Chapter Thirty Four **

The two weeks passed quicker than any of them could have imagined. For Hermione, that was possibly because most of her time was spent with her head stuck in a book. She saw Severus less than she liked, and he saw her less than he liked, but they both had equanimity and knew they had things to accomplish that were much more important than personal time.

After class on Friday, Hermione, Ginny, Lorrell, Ron, and Harry met in the common room. They had been telling the students they were planning on pulling an all evening study session on Friday when they would be free from their various clubs and classes. They had, in fact, actually gone and studied together as a group several times in the past two weeks to make their absence on Friday seem ordinary.

As a group, they left the common room with books, notebooks, and binders in hand as though they were actually going to be cramming. They chatted about school subjects and what to tackle first all the way down a roundabout path through the castle that just so happened to take them past the entrance to the headmistress's office. Covertly surveying the surrounding corridors, they swiftly took the staircase up without delay.

Hermione wasn't sure how Severus and Tonks were getting to the meeting. She only knew they were not present in the office with Minerva when they went to Floo.

"The powder is on the mantle, everyone. I trust you all know where you are going," said McGonagall to the group.

"Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place!" said Harry confidently. He had proudly not mis-Flooed once since his disastrous attempt to find Diagon Alley.

The rest followed suit. Ginny, Lorrell, and Ron. At the last moment, they heard one more voice pop up.

"Wait! I'm here! Sorry! It was hard to sneak away from everyone."

Hermione turned, half surprised to see a winded and flushed Draco Malfoy almost collapse into Minerva's office. "Glad to see you could make it, Mister Malfoy," the headmistress admonished while looking over her lorgnette from her desk. "I was worried you were merely being quixotic."

"No, ma'am," said Draco.

"Well, off you go then. I'll be along in a moment."

Hermione held out the jar to him as he took a pinch and stepped into the fire. She followed shortly after, completely unprepared for the tumultuous ride. The twisting turns did a number on her, and she was spit unceremoniously out of the fire and onto the rug in the drawing room, barely escaping hitting the floor by the two strong arms that caught her.

Standing up, a bit wobbly, and brushing herself off, she looked at her rescuer. "Thank you, Remus," she told him.

"Never a problem to assist my wards," he told her, helping to brush off her robes.

"Ha," said a snarky voice from the corner. "And we all know that is true."

"Severus," Remus greeted the solemn man. "Oh, excuse me, Draco."

Draco didn't land so much as tumble into the drawing room, nearly bowling over Remus and Hermione in the process. The older man assisted him to his feet as well and helped put him to rights.

Hermione noticed Draco was dressed very smart this evening. She wondered if he was nervous. She wasn't aware of his being presented in front of the entire Order before, even though they all knew he had been working as a spy for the Order for a year, being a second eyes and ears at first, and then the only ones when Severus was no longer able.

The large group of people had assembled by port key, Floo, Apparition, and the front door. It was a good thing the house was in a provincial area of London, or they would be in greater danger, even with the residence protected as it was.

As Hermione stepped into the noisy kitchen with the men behind her, Molly was carrying around a salver with drinks and assorted crackers and fruit. "Come on then, everyone have a spot of tea and a biscuit. No use having rumbling bellies during the meeting. We may be here for a while! Oh, Hermione! Come in, come in. Remus. And Draco! Welcome! Here, have some tea. There's a good lad."

Draco was beyond bewildered and took the cup and saucer before taking a seat in the corner next to his godfather. That was apparently going to be the misanthropic end of the table this evening.

Hermione went to sit with them.

Sitting around the room, she was impressed at the amount of people present. Remus and Tonks, Minerva, all the Weasleys besides Percy, Draco, Hermione, Harry, Ron and Lorrell, Katie, Moody, Kingsley, Severus, and assorted others sat at the table and stood around it as well, chatting amiably.

Moody watched the motley crew come in, his magical eye swerving to Draco. It gazed at him from top to bottom, stopping where the Dark Mark would be. He gave the blonde boy a pointed look, but he wisely said nothing.

Katie was new to the group like Draco was, but she had definitely made an ally in Charlie while Molly looked on with a watchful eye. Remus and Tonks were taking a quiet moment to themselves while everyone seemed to just want to catch up on gossip.

Suddenly, Minerva came forward carrying a large portmanteau.

"If it isn't the Gorgon herself," mumbled Severus to which he received a kick under table from a straight-faced Hermione.

Ignoring the comment, the elderly witch removed a large stack of papers that was sent around to each member, who took one and passed the stack on.

Flipping through hers, Hermione saw that it contained speculated locations of the Death Eaters and their headquarters, the approximate number of them, and even what was known of their attack plan and strategies on how to fight against them. Hermione considered making copies for the DA.

McGonagall waited a moment for everyone to look through the information before she began to speak. "As you know, I called this meeting of the Order of the Phoenix. Each of you here has proven yourselves worthy of our trust and respect. This meeting has been called because we may have a breakthrough in an offense against Voldemort. Hermione, would you come up here please?"

"Yes, go on, Egeria," she heard Severus whisper in the corner.

As she stood, she grabbed his sleeve and pulled him forward. There was more than one curious look at the most hated member, and possibly the most feared, placidly standing and following the young little witch. It was almost comical. With effrontery, a few members leaned in to get a view of the apoplexy that would surely follow.

But it never came. He followed her to the front and stood behind her like a gargoyle, arms crossed over black, chin high, waiting for someone to protest his presence.

Only because he couldn't see the fierce look on Hermione's face did he wonder why no one did.

"This is just as much Professor Snape's accomplishment as mine. It was my idea, but it never would have gotten off the ground without him. Now, basically, we think we found a way to make Voldemort human again, without his magical enhancements."

"You think?" asked a voice from the back.

"Well, we obviously haven't tested it on him, and who knows for sure exactly what created him. However, Professor Snape came up with the idea of attempting it on a genetically altered Mandrake who had been given the same potion as Voldemort and exhibited the same properties. After, we tried our potion and refined it until it worked."

"And how are we going to get it to him?" asked Tonks.

"Well," said Hermione, "we have a few ideas, but does anyone else have a suggestion?"

The question was bandied about the room in a relatively organized way, with each person waiting their turn. Options ranged from injection (impervious to sharp objects) to a flower bouquet (no one knew horticulture). It was understood that everyone's opinion counted, and they would stay until the matter was resolved.

Hermione waited an appropriate length of time before calling back the discussion. "I have an idea to put forth as well. We know that the potion has to touch him in some inconspicuous way. Food and drink is out because, last Professor Snape knew, he had an unfortunate Death Eater or captive try all his food for him. Is that still the case, Draco?"

Draco nodded, trying not to be credulous that these people already considered him one of them.

"Alright, and does he still play chess before each meeting?"

Draco agreed again.

"Perfect." She turned her back to the crowd and stepped into the kitchen for a moment to retrieve the pack she had brought to make others think they were going to study. Hermione took out her chess set and laid it on the table before the crowd.

"And how's your chess set going to help us, missy?" asked Moody.

She explained the Muggle technology that would allow the potion to bond with the piece. "Any piece can be used, and we can use one or many. If it was one that would be used later in the game, say a bishop or a queen, then it would be difficult for them to pinpoint foul play."

Murmurs were heard as her idea was discussed. While she waited, Hermione and Severus watched the set pieces watch the crowd.

The white king walked up to Hermione, calling her attention. He pointed to his left forearm and to Snape with a puzzled expression.

"Yes," said Hermione. "We're talking about the bad man who calls him away."

The king made a slitting gesture over his throat.

"Yes, we are trying to figure out how to defeat him."

The king pointed to the chess set.

"Right, we want to use a chess piece to carry the potion that will hinder him."

The king pointed to himself.

Hermione gasped. "No, I couldn't use you! It'll be too dangerous!"

She hadn't noticed that the people around the table were no longer speaking. Instead they were entranced by the bossy witch and the piece's pantomime.

The white king stomped his foot. He pointed to Severus and to his mark. Then he pointed to Hermione and where her scar was on her abdomen. Stomping across the table, he pointed to Harry and his scar, to Draco and his mark, to Moody and his eye. To Remus, to Ginny, to Molly.

He then stood in the middle of the table and pointed once again to himself. _It's my turn_.

Hermione wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and nodded. "Alright. I suppose you would be our best option. But it really will be dangerous. I don't know if it will affect you."

The king stomped his foot again with his arms crossed.

"What do you think?" she asked the brooding man beside her.

"If you have a volunteer for the christening, so be it."

"Christening?" asked Ron.

"Perhaps Voldemort is Anabaptist," Snape responded, completely straight-faced, only serving to confuse the boy more.

"Okay, alright, you win," said Hermione. "If they agree this is what we're going to try, I'll let you be the carrier, okay?"

The white king solemnly nodded and went back to the board where the black queen hugged him fiercely.

"What. The bloody hell. Was that?" asked Tonks.

"Miss Granger is quite gifted in Charms," said Severus in his first public sentence of the meeting.

"You made that, Hermione?" asked Remus. "That is quite the talent. And useful. It'll be beneficial to have something sentient carrying the potion instead of just the normal Wizarding chess set."

"It does seem like a good plan," said Harry.

"And we have nothing to lose," added Ron. "If it doesn't work, he doesn't have to know an attempt was made. Is there a simple spell that could be cast on him to test if it was effective before we try to fight him?"

_That is a rather intelligent addition_, thought a surprised Snape.

Once again chatter broke out around the room.

"A Cheering Charm perhaps?"

"Or a Rictusemptra?"

"Maybe just a gentle wind spell?"

"He has no hair to ruffle."

"Well, I know, but his robes perhaps."

The twins suggested turning his skin purple, but it was decided that that would be too visible.

"What about Concisus Macula?" added Lorrell.

The conversation paused as everyone turned to the busty blonde they had forgotten was present.

Lorrell shrugged. "I use Modica Macula when I want a little beauty mark for a few hours. Concisus Macula would make a mark for just a minute or two, right?"

"Excellent, Miss Pepple," said the voice of Dumbledore. Apparently some dolt had thought it prudent to hang a portrait of the departed headmaster in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place. Nothing could escape the old man. "I believe that would be just the thing."

More discussion ensued, and it was decided Severus would accompany Draco to Voldemort's next meeting.

"Are you sure you want to do the next scheduled meeting?" asked Draco, speaking up for the first time.

"Yes, I believe so," said McGonagall. "Why do you ask?"

"Because it's next Friday."

The flurry of activity was immediate. Everyone was present for a while, they reasoned, so a week's time was a surprisingly good choice. It left little time for word of their plan to escape, and the Order could be in place.

"Draco? You're going to this meeting?" asked Severus.

"Yes. My father wants to have me there as a reminder of his loyalty to the Dark Lord. He is certain he plans to attack soon."

"Then I will be ready to go with you," the older wizard told him calmly. As Draco walked way, Severus mumbled, "Unless I can find a sick friend named Bunbury."

Hermione made a clucking noise in admonishment.

"What?" he questioned. "You can't blame me for wishing I had emigrated at some point in the last twenty years."

She knew he was only trying to lighten the mood for her sake, he knew how she liked Oscar Wilde, but this was not the time to be flippant, and she was going to worry regardless. "You wouldn't have met me," she whispered for his ears alone.

She tried to be strong when she really wanted to verbally protest. Hermione hated the thought of him going back to the Death Eaters, knowing this time would be more dangerous. Possibly even more dangerous than when Voldemort first returned. This time, he knew of Severus's treachery.

But she couldn't. She knew she had to stay quiet, even as she could see him looking at her, wondering if she would break.

He was the best choice. The only choice. Only he could protect Draco, could be a distraction, and knew exactly how to react. No, everyone had to make sacrifices and take risks.

"Do you think he means to attack then?" asked Arthur.

Draco shrugged. "I'm not that high in rank yet. It's possible. It is in the last month of school now."

Soon, new battle plans were being drawn. Most of the Order would be waiting, ready at the castle. If Voldemort decided to strike, Severus and Draco would not be enough to stop him. And even with the potion, they could only hinder him. Only Harry could give the final spell.

Ginny and Ron would alert the DA the next morning and meet them at lunch to go over their duties. Everyone was surprised that they were so well prepared. Tonks had taught everyone well that year in Defense, and the DA took it a few steps above class. They were armed, and they were ready.

Ginny and Lorrell explained to the group how they had plans for the fifth year students to bring all the younger students into the Room of Requirement, and the sixth and seventh years planned on bolstering the Order if the castle was, in fact, attacked. They also explained how Hermione had enchanted the lists of names so that one marked off would appear on all of them, and no one would be forgotten.

"Good work, Hermione," said Minerva.

"Just grunt work," she told them humbly. "The task of keeping all the students together and calm will fall to the fifth years and the prefects." Hermione planned on being in the Infirmary, helping Madam Pomfrey should there be injuries.

Several hours after the meeting began, the planning was complete, and the mood of the room was tense. They now had a date. A deadline. Come this time next week, Voldemort could be defeated.

"Hermione?" asked Minerva softly. "Would you mind entertaining us a bit while we have a nightcap? I'm afraid we could all use a bit of a respite for a few moments."

"I don't mind playing, but I don't think I'm up to singing as well. Ginny? Lorrell? Would either of you want to sing, or should I just play?"

A few members left but the majority moved into the large drawing room that held the expansive liquor cabinet. Shots and glasses were passed around until everyone had something to sip, and Hermione set up her chess set.

Lorrell stood up alongside the piano there and chatted with Hermione before the music began. (1)

The bows of the strings pistoned up and down as the legato music began to play with the horns later joining in. Lorrell's deep alto voice strolled along the notes, taking her sweet time.

"'My funny valentine…Sweet, comic valentine. You make me smile with my heart. Your looks are laughable, unphotographable, yet you're my favorite work of art.'"

Lorrell owned the song as Hermione watched from the piano bench, the piano silent. Ron, of course, was riveted to her, and the rest of the group was alternating watching the witch and watching the chess set. The girl had a strong yet airy voice, very fit for the bluesy song she sang. Her favorite music to sing was from such artists as Ella Fitzgerald and Etta James, and it showed in the Sarah Vaughan rendition.

"'Is your figure less than Greek? Is your mouth a little weak? When you open it to speak, are you smart?'" Lorrell sang as she walked over to Ron and tweaked his nose. The words were fitting for sure.

It was odd how the girl had come to fit into their lives, but no one could deny how well she and the red-head fit together.

Lorrell continued the song, taking a slow stroll around the room as though it were her own personal jazz lounge with the patrons sipping on something strong and the lights turned down low. The audience was quiet; no inane chatter could be heard. "'But don't change a hair for me, not if you care for me. Stay, little valentine, stay. Each day is Valentine's Day.'"

"'Is your figure less than Greek?'" she repeated. "'Is your mouth a little weak? When you open it to speak, are you smart?'"

Hidden by shadow, Hermione leaned over to Severus to remark how this was definitely a song for Ron and not a song for him. He smirked so small only she would notice it, but that was fine. It was only for her anyway.

"'But don't change a hair for me, not if you care for me. Stay, little valentine, stay. Each day is Valentine's Day.'"

The crowd applauded, both for the set and the chanteuse, as they enjoyed the slow crooning of both. Remus nudged Hermione to show off a bit as well. Hermione tried insisting they had all heard her and would probably rather go home to get some sleep. She really just wanted to sit there by Severus for a little while, but in the end, she acquiesced.

Hermione sat at the familiar piano, recalling the night Severus found her in this room. How solemn a night it was, and how shocked she was seeing his white legs and the blanket he cast over her. She still cherished that blanket.

Her fingers almost touched the keys when she was interrupted by a cough from Harry.

"Actually, um, while everyone is here, I'd like to make an announcement."

_Oh no._

"In light of recent events, our past history, and our love for each other, Ginny and I have been married."

"Oh no you haven't!" shrieked Molly Weasley as a cacophony broke out around the room. It seemed as though even Ron didn't know what had happened.

"Mum!" said Ginny. "Yes, we have. We still want to have a proper ceremony this summer if everything goes okay, but if it doesn't, we just wanted to be married first."

"But Harry! Ginevra!"

"I know, Molly," said Harry.

"I know, Mum," Ginny concurred. "But you know you and Dad were the same. You got married when things got rough, and Harry and I know this is the right decision. I'm going to stay in school, and there are places for married couples."

As they all listened, the full story came out. Harry knew that what he needed to do was dangerous. Possibly even more dangerous than that required of Snape and Malfoy. Voldemort already hated him and wanted him dead. He was Enemy Number One. If anything happened to him, he wanted Ginny taken care of. He had loved her longer than she probably knew.

Harry had never had much of a family. With the death of his parents and living at the Dursleys, he hadn't had a family life, a truly loving family, of his own. The Weasleys were as close as it came, and Hermione had a feeling that he might be feeling a little put out with the addition of Hermione into the Orphan Club and Lorrell into the Weasley household. He needed something, someone, he knew would be there. Something to hope for and look forward to. A driving force and reason to live.

Ginny knew Harry was a serious man. He had matured years beyond what his father possibly ever knew, even going so far as to be on speaking terms with Severus. He was a stable, loving, family wizard. If anything happened to him, she would be proud to carry on the name Potter.

"How did you get out of the castle?" asked Ron. "None of us are allowed off the grounds without a teacher!"

"Harry Potter!" spoke an angry McGonagall. "You didn't really need anything for Severus and Hermione did you?"

"It was Ginny's idea!" said Harry indignantly. "She said it's how Hermione got them out of the castle before!"

_Oh, thank you Harry Potter and your big mouth. _

Hermione quickly explained, and perhaps lied a little, that she had needed to get a few things to help with the potion, and she had brought along Ginny and Lorrell for safety.

She just didn't tell them that what she had needed to get was chocolate and lingerie to make her not angry at Severus so that they could finish the second trial.

And, in the end, it was Ron who made the most convincing argument.

It gave Harry more of what Voldemort didn't have.

Love.

Even Molly Weasley couldn't argue with love.

Ginny was crying by the time things calmed down, and Severus was watching her being consoled by Hermione as Molly was giving Ginny and Harry a bit of what for. She was insistent that if all went well, there was most certainly going to be a proper ceremony in the summer, and the elopement was not to be discussed until then!

It wasn't so much that she was ashamed. No, both the Weasley parents loved Harry and could not have hoped for a better match for their daughter. However, they remembered the climate when they eloped themselves. There was panic and fear in the hearts of everyone. Each person was clinging to someone or something for solace. They did not want that for their family, and they didn't want to be responsible for spreading that panic on to others. How would the other students feel if they knew that Harry Potter, Boy-Who-Lived, was so scared that he had eloped with his school sweetheart?

No, it was better kept under wraps for now. It would be one more thing to celebrate when the Dark Bastard was gone for good.

Because they _were_ going to win.

Slowly, people realized that the shocks were over for the evening. They began to disperse one by one with goodbyes and well wishes. They would be in contact by owl over the next week, and small groups would gather Friday to organize the Order. Most would be stationed at Hogwarts, a few at the suspected meeting site for the Death Eaters, and a few other strategic locations, such as the Ministry and St. Mungo's.

As Hermione went to go Floo with her friends, Severus shortly behind them, Remus spoke to her softly and asked if he could speak to her for a moment. She agreed and followed him to a separate room.

Remus's hackles rose as he realized the scent of Severus on Hermione was even stronger now. Yes, this was something that had to be addressed.

"Hermione, Severus has no doubt made you aware that I've been informed of your…attachment."

"Yes, he has," said Hermione, curious at his line of questioning.

"And this is mutual, of course, yes?"

"Of course it is, Remus. You don't exactly force Severus Snape to do something!" she said indignantly. Did he really think that she could manage to coerce him into something? Hermione refused to use some of the more dubious tactics of the late headmaster.

Remus was a bit startled. That wasn't how he had meant it at all, and it was absurd to think that she would be taking advantage of Severus Snape and not the other way around. "Is he treating you well? You haven't felt pressured by anything, or threatened?"

"Of course not! Honestly! Do you realize what that man puts up with? It's you lot who can be the real berks sometimes, Remus. He is completely different if you give him the chance to be. Bury the hatchet. Even Harry has."

Once again, Remus was taken back. He had not heard from Harry that the old Potter/Snape grudge would not see another generation.

Honestly, he was happy to see it go. When this was over, he would try and talk to the man. If Hermione Granger called him friend, he deserved it.

The girl in question tossed him an angry look over her shoulder as she strode back to the fireplace and grabbed a handful of powder, stating, "Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!" and stepping through the flames.

~~HGSS~~

The following week, any guests to Hogwarts would have thought the castle was in mourning.

The majority of the chatter in the halls came from the lower years. The rest just calmly and quietly went about their business. Teachers rarely had to take points or give detention. Silverware could actually be heard in the Great Hall, and even the Quidditch Pitch was untouched on some evenings.

When the Order members had returned to the castle after their meeting, the students had dutifully contacted the rest of Dumbledore's Army the following day as planned. The plan was laid out in sparse detail, but the message was clear. War was upon them for real now, and in a short week, their mettle might be tested. They could not fail.

Their solemnity had transferred to the rest of the student body, who was already stressed with the end of the year looming.

Nothing good happened at the end of the year.

On the night before the hopefully fateful battle, Hermione found herself in Severus's quarters, where she had been everyday for at least a short while.

This evening found her with Crookshanks, her faithful feline, as she methodically brushed him and groomed him.

"I swear, some day I will find you pushing him in a perambulator," grumbled a cranky Severus from his well worn armchair.

Hermione looked up at him. She had watched the man grow understandably more and more agitated as the week progressed. "Have you talked with Draco?" she asked.

He told her he had.

"And everything is set for tomorrow?"

"It is."

"Severus?" she asked gently while coming around behind his chair, laying her hands on his shoulders and her chin on his head. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

He thought for a moment.

"Play for me."

Hermione gave his shoulders a squeeze and went to sit down at the piano. (2) Her chess set was waiting for her and intuitively began to play almost as soon as her bottom hit the bench. A few strings, a piano, and Hermione's voice filled the room with the lone white rook on trumpet.

"'Every time we say goodbye, I die a little,'" she sang in her alto. "'Every time we say goodbye, I wonder why a little. Why the Gods above me, who must be in the know. Think so little of me, they allow you to go.'"

The song was slow and tender, full of the longing only the blues can truly express. Each part was just an accent to the other, each working to highlight the lyrics that Hermione felt to her core. Every time he left, she wished it would be the last time.

When he left tomorrow, she was afraid it was going to be.

"'When you're near, there's such an air of spring about it. I can hear a lark somewhere, begin to sing about it. There's no love song finer, but how strange the change from major to minor, every time we say goodbye.'"

The song spoke the truth. When she had to leave him night after night, her mood went from a happy major to the sad, melancholy minor key.

"'When you're near,'" she repeated, "'there's such an air of spring about it. I can hear a lark somewhere, begin to sing about it. There's no love song finer, but how strange the change from major to  
minor, every time we say goodbye.'"

Her fingers on the piano stilled, and she sat there a moment, wondering if the hopeful longing for the day when they wouldn't have to part was hers alone.

"Then don't," she heard from over her shoulder.

"I'm sorry?"

"Don't say goodbye. Stay with me tonight, Hermione," he asked her.

She took a long look at this man, this wizard in front of her. Once feared Potions professor, now her respected teacher. Once a Death Eater, now an Order member. Once the bane of Harry Potter's existence, and now almost his friend.

Once alone, as she was.

Now he was hers, as surely as she was his.

"Of course I will," she told him, cognizant of the fact that this was the first time she had been invited to stay the evening in his rooms. Hermione didn't think the night he fell asleep in her arms counted, even though she certainly felt as though it were an important rung in the ladder of their relationship.

She waited patiently while he used the facilities and used the time to ask Dobby to bring her some clothes. She informed the elf that he was not to speak a word of her whereabouts to anyone but the headmistress, and then only if she asked.

"Of course not, Miss. No, Miss. Dobby is keeping the secrets of the friend of Harry Potter!"

"Thank you, Dobby," she barely said before he popped out of sight.

She watched as Severus came out of the bathroom in a dark gray nightshirt that looked soft to the touch and hung to just below his knees. Hermione had heard he wore nightshirts. With the long sleeves and collar, he looked as bundled as ever.

He made an awkward gesture toward his bathroom. "Do you need to…or anything…?"

"Sure, I'll be just a second."

Hermione quickly used the facilities, changed her clothes and put up her hair to save her a bit of trouble in the morning. Coming out, she saw he was already propped up in bed with a book and his reading glasses.

_Yes!_ her heart screamed. _This is what I want. This is what I want for the rest of my life._

She smiled a bit shyly, which was strange considering she had no qualms about divesting him of his clothes. However, this seemed just as intimate, if not more so.

He pulled back her side of the covers, and she joined him in reading for a short while. After less than an hour had passed, she laid her book on the end table on her side and settled in on her side to sleep.

Taking her cue, he marked his place as well and called, "_Nox_!"

Both of them lay in silence, neither sleeping. Instead, they listened to the breathing of the other, each breath and ruffle of the covers seemingly magnified a thousand fold.

"Hermione?" said a whispered voice.

"Yes?"

"Do you think we should have gotten married?"

He heard her breath hitch. After a long pause, her voice, laden with emotion, attempted to evenly answer, "I'm sure if that is meant to happen, it will. It doesn't matter right now. I couldn't love you any more than I already do."

After an even longer pause, a strong arm stretched across the bed, wrapped around Hermione's waist and pulled her close to a strong, warm chest. Long strands of hair that wasn't hers tickled her cheek as she eventually fell into a deep, exhausted sleep.

**Teaser:** "Are we going to succeed tonight?"

The white king shrugged.

"I have a feeling if we don't, we'll die trying."

**Author's Note:** There was a side challenge set by some friends fulfilled in this chapter. We were watching Oscar Wilde's 'The Importance of Being Earnest' and I was charged with putting all 20 words defined in the program into my story. I stepped it up and said I can put all 20 into a chapter. Can you find them?

On the side, I am now happily 6 months pregnant. Xander's favorite trick is to punch my belly button while using the lower regions for a trampoline. Husband is convinced I'm giving birth to Chuck Norris.

This story ends at Chapter 40.


	36. Chapter 35

**A/N: ** Look at that! Before 5pm EST even!

**Chapter Thirty-Five**

Sitting through Charms class that Friday was pretty much a washout. Hermione had no clue what the professor was talking about. All she could think about was the plan for that night and waking up with Severus that morning.

Severus felt the same. He knew that Draco would be coming around four that afternoon to pick up the now imbued chess piece and discuss any last minute changes or concerns. So distracted was he that he even let his last class go five minutes early, just to get the ignorant, idiotic imbeciles out of his classroom.

It gave him five unexpected minutes to think about Hermione.

Waking up with someone else in his bed had taken a moment to adjust to, but less time than he would have expected.

When he woke, he found a slightly snoring, pretty little witch in his bed. Her hair was all over his pillow, and she took more than her fair share of the bed and covers.

But she had one hand fisted in his nightshirt and a leg thrown over his. Somehow, that made it alright.

Her sleepy "good morning" and a kiss didn't hurt either.

They had had a quick breakfast, both trying to avoid bringing up the mission and the risks they were all going to face.

With a fierce hug, she promised she would see him before he left.

He knew that when tonight came, she would be his bedrock. His beacon. Tonight would be the first battle where it wasn't just about the objective or some misguided sense of assuaging his own guilt.

Tonight would be about hope, and the Light, and coming home to Hermione.

He went into his office and left the lights out as he sat in his chair. Severus picked up the white king, who had been pacing on his desk. They both regarded each other somberly.

"Are we going to succeed tonight?"

The white king shrugged.

"I have a feeling if we don't, we'll die trying."

The king agreed.

Suddenly, there was a knock on his door.

It was Hermione.

She came in quietly without needing to say a word. She pulled a chair around his desk and sat next to him, holding his hand as they waited for Draco. Softly, their breathing settled, and his hand brushed over their joined ones as the minutes passed by.

Soon after, another person slipped in.

"Is everyone in place?" asked Draco.

"As much as they can be without arousing the suspicions of the students. The prefects who are in Dumbledore's Army," he said with only the slightest derision, "are planning on having a large evening of frivolity to keep the students in one location. Nothing has been told to the Ministry, for obvious safety reasons. Once they know, everyone knows, and we don't know who we can trust. The Order members are scattered throughout the castle. They each have one of the enchanted Galleons for communication. Patronuses would be too risky."

Severus stood and subtly released Hermione's hand from beneath the desk as he went to pace the room. "Draco and I will be going into the meeting alone. I'm hoping we will be there less than an hour, but we can't know for sure." He looked up as if just noticing Draco. "We need to go to the headmistress."

The two students flanked the head of Slytherin as they passed though the unnaturally silent hallways. The other students were not meant to gather for some time, and yet, the castle was eerily subdued. If it was sentient, it was waiting with its breath held.

They reached the office and found a few others inside. Kingsley, Remus, and Tonks were waiting to see the two off before heading to their own positions.

This was definitely different for Severus than it had been working with Dumbledore. He didn't really know what to say to them. No one had ever been there before, and he couldn't even blame it on Hermione since not everyone knew about them.

They discussed a few more points, the king settled, safely snug, in a deep black pocket, and the two faux Death Eaters prepared to leave for the secret passageway.

As they went, Hermione yelled, "Wait!"

They both stopped and turne, Draco with one hand on the door.

"I love you," she told Severus with fear and worry written all over her face.

His eyes flicked to the startled audience in the room before he answered slowly, "And I love you."

And then they were gone.

~~HGSS~~

Draco led his professor for a change as they headed up to Malfoy Manor.

This was rather fortuitous, in Snape's opinion. One of his main concerns had been that he would be somewhere with which he was unfamiliar. The home of the Malfoys had been known to him since the first night he took the vow to Voldemort. Interesting that it was here that might be his last night in the presence of the Dark Lord as well.

His outward appearance was calm as he ascended the front walk, as menacing as ever. Severus was impressed with young Draco's façade of nonchalance as well. Perhaps there was something to be gained from the genes of Black and Malfoy after all.

Coming in the door, it was apparent they were the last to arrive.

The house held about thirty people, all in casual attire, but Severus could see Death Eater robes around the room, draped over chairs and hung on coat hooks. When the room's occupants saw the two new arrivals, conversation ceased as though someone had declared they loved Harry Potter.

"Where is Father?" asked Draco.

Someone tipped a head toward a back parlor.

"He's with _him_," said a man unknown to Snape as the two passed through. No one pulled a wand or spoke a word, although the tension was thick in the air. Every eye was on them, and no one moved.

Draco led the way through to where his father was. Judging by the treatment of the rest of the crowd, Draco was held in some sort of esteem. No one outright questioned why Snape had been allowed in, but the question was plainly there.

Entering the room, they saw Voldemort sitting at a small table while Lucius stood by the fire. Snape knew that once, this room had held the pair's pre-meeting chess game. Now, it seemed, this custom was no more.

He turned a lazy gaze to the duo as though they were the most expected thing in the world. "Draco…Ssseverus. Is there a reason you come before me?"

"We wanted to-," started Draco before he was brushed aside by his mentor.

"I understand that you have reason to believe that I no longer wish to be amongst you, as I was informed by…the message I was given a few months ago. I personally wanted to offer my aid, as I always have, Master, in ridding the world of the filth that is the Muggle-borns."

"Is that ssso? And what of the images I saw in your mind? What of your liaissson with the Granger girl?"

"A gift," he flawlessly lied. "One I have still kept on hand, should you wish to have her." It made him angry, even though he knew Voldemort would never so much as look at Hermione as long as Severus was alive.

Severus Snape stood tall and reserved as he withstood the interrogation from the Dark Lord. He was examined from top to bottom as his words were judged.

They appeared to pass muster. For now.

"I was displeased that you fell away from the fold, but a ssshepherd cannot put too much faith in his flock. Come," he instructed Snape as he dismissed Draco. "Play with me. Luciusss has felt queer about chess for a few weeks now and is no longer fit to play."

Severus could feel the white king sniggering. "Should Lucius be permitted to stay, then, if he will not deign to play with his Master?"

Feeding off Snape's words, Voldemort felt the sense of power rise within him. "Perhaps you are right. Lucius, leave us."

"But, My Lord, he cannot be trusted!"

"I am with my loyal servants and in your house, Lucius. Are you telling me that I cannot handle him, that he would be foolish enough to try something, or that your house is not secure for me?"

"Of course not, My Lord," said the elder Malfoy with the sneer in his tone that only the truly over-bred possessed.

As Voldemort watched Lucius go, Snape quickly grabbed the king in his handkerchief and swapped him for the white king on the table. When the Dark Lord turned back, it was obvious he had not seen what had transpired.

"Well then, let us play."

It had been some time since Severus had played against his former Master. It shamed him to know he could easily beat him if he so desired, but as Muggle cinema had once taught him, sometimes it was better to let the stronger player win.

As he watched the black and white pieces move around the board, in his mind, they became the major players in Severus's life. The black king of Voldemort against the white king of Dumbledore. There was Minerva against Lucius, the Order against the Death Eaters, and, for some time, Harry, Ron, and Hermione against Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle.

Where did Severus fit?

Every strategy had to have its rogue. He wondered if he would be around to see the expression on Voldemort's face when he realized he was Tom Riddle again and had been manipulated by Snape once more.

One by one the pieces fell off the board until only a handful remained. Snape brought in his queen to threaten the white king, and as hoped, Voldemort moved the king one space to the side.

This dance continued for a few moments until Snape allowed himself to be beaten. He didn't know how long the king had to be touched in order to transfer the potion, but he didn't want to take any chances.

"Ah, Ssseverus, the better man will always triumph," hissed Voldemort, sliding the king into his own robes as a sordid trophy.

"Indeed, My Lord."

"And I have a surprise for you," said the man with an inhuman grin. "You have come on a night most fortuitous. Even young Draco did not know what tonight held in store."

Snape kept his face blank but raised a brow in question.

"That's what I like about you. Nothing fazes you. But let us see if this will. Tonight, we attack Hogwarts!"

A start flickered across Snape's face. It seemed Draco's instincts had been correct when he had informed Severus that they should have more security than planned in the school.

"I have no doubt you will succeed admirably, My Lord. They will suspect nothing," Severus said as they stood to rejoin the rest of the group.

"My servantsss," Voldemort proclaimed, "the prodigal son has returned! This is an omen that the night shall be ours, and by tomorrow, Hogwarts will be in my hands. And then…the Ministry!"

Snape gave a minute head shake to Draco, who whispered a wandless spell. "My Lord, when will we be leaving for the castle?"

The Dark Lord turned to him, and only Severus could see a brown spot in the middle of his forehead just disappearing.

The potion had worked.

Now hopefully Potter would too.

"Sssoon. Are we feeling impatient? Eager to retrieve the Mudblood? I can't say I blame you. I hear the heathens are worth keeping for a few things at least. Lucius, we have a few things to settle before the group is ready to depart. I want to ensure that Harry Potter is defeated by me and me alone. It is I who must ssslay the insolent brat and show the wizarding world once and for all who their real Master isss!"

Murmurs of "yes, My Lord" and "understood" were heard around the room. The men still looked warily at Snape as though he were a viper ready to strike. It seemed they were more cautious of him than they were of the Dark Lord himself. Perhaps because he was the unknown variable.

After a short time, the Dark Lord returned with Lucius in tow. They were ready.

As the Death Eaters donned their robes and headed outside to Apparate to the outskirts of Hogwarts, Severus used the moment to send a message to the Order.

_Worked. Inc. approx 30, Hogwarts_

The castle went instantly into a flurry of activity. There were at least thirty members just in the students' army. Ginny notified the six fifth-year prefects that it was time to make sure all the students were accounted for. One went to each of the four houses, since they were lucky enough to have one of the Slytherin prefects, and the other two began to tally up the students who were enjoying the evening in the large Room of Requirement. If they were quick, they would have all the younger students gathered there before the first wave of attacks began, although who knew how long they would be able to keep quiet on what was happening.

Members of the Order seemed to emerge from the very walls themselves. Suddenly Kingsley, Remus, Moody, the Weasleys, and others were by the vulnerable points of the castle. Hermione ran up the steps to Madam Pomfrey in the Infirmary, trailing several large boxes behind her.

"Madam Pomfrey," Hermione told the startled matron. "The castle is going to be under attack by Death Eaters in about fifteen minutes. I've come to help, and Lorrell will be here soon too. Here are extra supplies that Professor Snape and I made."

"But…but…no one told me anything!"

"I'm sorry," Hermione said earnestly. "I don't think they wanted any more people to know than had to. But we brought you everything you might need."

"Well," she replied, suddenly taking charge as only a stern medical woman could. "Let's see if you have. Open up the boxes now. Pip pip!"

As the two women unpacked supplies, Lorrell ran up the stairs, gasping for breath.

"They're here."

~~HGSS~~

Harry, Ron, and Ginny made sure most of the children were accounted for before they left the Room of Requirement. Harry and Ginny calmly explained what was happening so that the children didn't panic as much when they heard the commotion later. They assured them that the Death Eaters could not find them and hurt them. Everything would happen outside the walls, Harry Potter was going to protect them, and they should just try and be calm and listen to the older students.

After the kids agreed, they headed off to find the rest of the Order.

Harry was strangely emotionless. Ginny doubted he had actually come to terms with what had to be done. Although, there had to be a peace in finally facing that which you had almost been born to do. Harry had known for seven years, the rest of the world for sixteen years, that this day would come. The day when he had to face Voldemort, and only one would emerge alive.

How could he possibly expect to be the victor? Him? A scrawny seventeen-year-old who hadn't even found out he was magical until he was eleven?

But he had things of which the Dark Lord knew not. And they had given the Dark Lord something of which he knew not as well. Harry could only pray it was enough.

As they reached the main doors, they ran outside to find a crowd waiting for them. Coming up the walk, followed by Malfoy and Snape and his Death Eaters, was Voldemort himself.

A bright moon illuminated the sparse grounds as the swarm of black came to a halt. Only deep, echoing laughter could be heard in the unnatural silence.

"If you think for one moment you are going to set foot inside this castle, I'm afraid you're sorely mistaken," said McGonagall, breaking the ice and showing exactly why her Animagus was a cat. She fairly bristled with tension and anger.

The laughter ceased. "Ah, Minerva. I have no desire to harm your studentsss. Only one." The Dark Lord glanced over to Snape and added in a malevolent tone, "Well, maybe two."

No one knew who cast the first spell. Later, it would be recounted that a lone jet of green sparks shot wild from a wand, and from there, all Hell broke loose.

Curses flew left, right, and center as Harry dove for cover. It seemed as though the Death Eaters had been taught to engage him and incapacitate him, but not to kill him.

Thankfully, the Order was prepared to defend, and soon, most of the Death Eaters were engaged in their own battles and were forced to abandon the Potter Pursuit for the moment.

Severus dodged one spell after another. Each side thought that he belonged to them, but only one was right. The one who was tossing a few minor hexes and curses his way to make him more believable. He had wisely kept his hood off as they strode up to the castle grounds. Voldemort believed it was because he was proud of showing where his loyalties finally lay. Little did he know it was to save his own hide.

The first casualty of the evening was not a person anyone would have expected. Hagrid, the clumsy half-giant, was engaged with a Death Eater, when someone with the build of Macnair pointed his wand at Hagrid's back and shouted the Killing Curse.

The sparks of the spell could not be avoided, especially when they were not seen.

A moment later, a large body lay on the ground, dead.

Later, on that spot, a tombstone would be erected to commemorate the first lost in the Battle of Hogwarts. The proud canine, Fang, had protected his master to the very end.

Hagrid would never again own another dog. "Never have one as good as ole Fang," he told those who inquired as he brushed aside a tear.

Macnair would not remember the rest of the battle. Soon after casting the only curse he would throw that evening, he found himself knocked unconscious by a meaty fist and deposited against a tree, where he would not wake until dawn.

Amidst the chaos, the Death Eaters didn't notice at first that the size of the group they were fighting had grown from about fifteen adults to forty adults and teens, and even one house-elf. The freed Dobby heard the commotion and was quick to add his house-elf magic to the melee. Anything to help the friends of Harry Potter.

The Death Eaters were swift to notice that the teenagers were the more dangerous combatants. They had learned spells only someone like Severus Snape would know or invent.

Harry found Severus, who was more chaperoning the battle than participating in it. Of course, he didn't know that the first thing Snape did when the first spells were cast was turn on Draco, Petrify him, and Disillusion him. "Can't have you getting yourself killed," he told the body of the silent boy. "What would your mother say?" After that, Snape would covertly send incapacitating spells at the Death Eaters, but otherwise, his time was spent pretending to fight Order members or watching out for Harry and the others.

Lorrell and Hermione's presence in the Infirmary was more than made up for by the quietest girl in the Order. Katie used her abnormal speed to her advantage as she sped around even the most agile of the Death Eaters. Kati, Ron, and Charlie had been up several nights since she had come, leaving Mrs. Weasley in the kitchen as they discussed tactics. She knew where to be, how to get there, and what to do once she did. Charlie was beside her side the whole time, and the two worked as a cohesive unit.

"Remus!"

Snape sharply pivoted at the sound of the last Marauder's name. About thirty meters away, he could see the man writhing under the wand of a man in black.

Harry was blazing a trail toward the fallen body, screaming at each person in his way. A Death Eater jumped in his path and was on the ground before he could cast as the angered boy yelled, "_Petrificus Totalus_!" He ran past the body yelling, "That's what you get! I'm going to lay all your friends out right beside you!"

Severus was the first to reach Remus, who was barely conscious. Lucius Malfoy was smirking with an odd little laugh as he tortured the writhing man.

"Severus, come to delight in tonight's festivities? What's that matter? Couldn't find a little animal of your own? Pity, perhaps someone else has her for the evening."

"You seem to be awfully transfixed on Muggle-borns, Malfoy. Here, let me help you get a little inside knowledge. _Aufero veneficus_!"

Harry gaped in horror as he came upon the scene. Draco's father was on the ground, he eyes rolled back in his head and jerking as though he were in throes of a grand mal seizure. From out of his eyes, mouth, and the middle of his chest, came the most transfixing stream of blue ether. It looked alive, swaying and ebbing, with runes intertwined in the mingling strains.

He realized it was the magic of Lucius Malfoy. He had not known that someone such as Malfoy could contain something so beautiful, but from the set look on Snape's face, he wasn't going to contain it much longer.

Remus was still on the ground and coughing as the last of the blue dissipated. Lucius continued to twitch but was conscious enough to mouth one word.

"Why?"

"How many Muggle-borns did you rip the magic from?" snarled Snape. "How many times did you laugh at their tears, revel in the fact that you had taken what anyone had a right to have and no one had the right to own? How quickly would you have done it to Hermione if given the chance? No, it will not be so. And now you can be the one who knows just what it is like to live without your gifts. To have a taste of the ambrosia and then be cast away. You shall harm no one else on this night."

Severus kicked a bit of dirt at the fallen man before reaching out a hand to assist Lupin to his feet. "Remus," he greeted almost cordially, as if waiting for Molly to come round with the tea.

"Severus," said Remus, completely winded and wobbling on his feet. "I'm sorry," he blurted. "About everything. About Hermione, about Sirius and James, and the shack, and being a spineless jellyfish, and everything. I'm truly and deeply sorry, and I wish you both the most happiness."

"You're forgiven, Lupin, but perhaps this isn't the best time?" said Snape, running off to cast another spell at a Death Eater who had come too close to the red-headed imbecile who had the misfortune of being named Ronald.

The Ronald in question was assisting Harry in getting to Voldemort. Dodging around the unconscious or slain bodies of the allies and their enemies, he noticed the body of Avery on the ground, presumably dead. He also stepped over the body of Sterling, the burly sixth-year Hufflepuff. Ron couldn't help but notice as he passed that the boy's glazed over eyes looked like a snake's, and he shuddered at the thought of what spell would create such an effect.

Screams of pain, shouts of anger, yells of curses, and hollers for help. The battle at Hogwarts was comparably swift, but none could say it was silent. The air around the castle would glow a murky green for several nights in a macabre version of the Northern Lights from the sheer amount of magic cast in a single place.

Severus was watching the head of each female he passed. Was Hermione out here? Had she gone to the Infirmary as was her plan? He knew it would be like her to come out and assist her friends. That was how she had ended up in most of her more unusual situations through the years.

Ducking as a large chunk of stone came flying at his head, Harry looked through the crowd to find Voldemort. He spotted him down by the White Tomb.

Harry, Ron, and Ginny expertly dodged their way around Kingsley fighting Dolohov. Doloholv fell shortly after under Snape's wand, and he could be heard yelling, "Because she isn't here to do it herself!"

Arthur and Molly were fighting against Bellatrix, the woman who had destroyed their family home. A curse connected with Arthur as Molly screamed something at Bellatrix, and she flew backward. Ron went to run to his father but was quickly grabbed by Ginny. "Later, Ron! If we don't get Harry to Voldemort, none of it will matter!"

The Dark Lord was standing on the tomb of the departed Headmaster when he saw the three teens come down the shallow hill. He floated down to the ground, arms crossed as if he had just been patiently waiting.

"Come to see me at last, Potter? I knew you couldn't stay away too long."

The trio halted, and each had their wand poised at Voldemort's heart.

"Tsssk, tsssk, dear me, it sssseems you have been taught no manners at all. Three on one is hardly fair, is it? Perhaps we should make it more even." Voldemort clicked his fingers.

And nothing happened.

With a scowl, he removed a wand from his sleeve, and flicking it once, he had two Inferi coming out of the lake towards the Weasley siblings.

"Fire!" Harry yelled. "They hate fire!"

They both began casting spells with flames while Voldemort laughed again. "Still trying to save people, Potter? Pity I don't see your normal Mudblood out here this evening. Were you not able to save her?"

"She's inside, safe. And, you know, it's a funny thing about Hermione. You see, she's been working with someone over the last few months to create a potion to hinder you. Several someones in fact. The blood in your system now contains a piece of your mother."

"My mother? You lie, Potter! The only mother who has ever had an interfering hand here is yours, and now you shall pay!"

"Wrong!" yelled Harry, beginning to circle around the tomb, always keeping Voldemort in sight. "You've been poisoned, Tom. Can you feel it? Nothing special about you anymore. You are just a normal wizard. And when Hermione was working on that potion, working with Snape, who has always been on our side, even tonight, as is Draco-," Harry continued.

"Watch it, Harry," whispered Ron.

Voldemort was now incensed and trying to make sense of Potter's words. It was true that his nonverbal magic had failed this evening, but was it true? Was it true that Severus had foiled him once again? That he was truly still on the side of the Light?

"-when she was working on that potion," Harry continued, "she had to visit the grave of my mother. And you know what, Tom? I think my mother sent Hermione back with a message for you."

"And what would your filthy Mudblood mother have to say to me?" asked Voldemort, keeping both Harry and Ron in his sights in case one should try and make a move.

"_Avada Kedavra_!"

A sharp jolt knocked Harry flat as the burst of magic left his wand.

Voldemort was too stunned to dodge. Too shocked at being outwitted by this _child_. The blast hit him square in the chest, and his faced registered an "Oh!" before the light went from his eyes and his body crumpled to the ground, slumped against the tomb of Albus Dumbledore.

No marker would rest there for him.

No one could see in the small silk-lined pocket, deep inside the robes Voldemort wore, the blast of magic that killed him hit the white king as well. The potion had not only removed the magical enhancements of the Dark Lord. It had removed them from the chess piece.

When the trumpets' resounding and the parades were done, when the speeches were finished and the medals passed around, when the heroes of the day went back to the house for a quiet celebration of their own, Hermione would have to play with a set that was one piece shy.

The king was silent, never knowing what was coming, as the blast hit him full on and he shattered.

As Voldemort, now just plain Tom Riddle, hit the ground, his body already beginning to cool, the shrieks of his Death Eaters could be heard around the battlegrounds.

Even Snape, who had finally given up his Death Eater persona and was openly hexing the other black-garbed wizards, was doubled over in pain, grasping his forearm as he shouted in agony.

The Order wasted no time. The one lesson they had learned from the first Wizarding War with Voldemort was to shoot now, ask questions later. Spells were being sent everywhere, and soon, the followers of Voldemort were rounded up. Some were Petrified, some were bound, and some were unconscious. No matter how it had happened, it was clear that the victor in this war was the side of the Light.

A feeble cheer rose in the gloomy darkness, but even the victors could not find joy in a battle that had cost so many of their lives.

~~HGSS~

Up in the Infirmary, the three women had their hands full. Lorrell and Hermione patched up the minor wounds while Madam Pomfrey saw to the more serious cases.

Well, with Lorrell's weak stomach, it would be more accurate to say that Hermione patched up the minor wounds and Madam Pomfrey worked on the more serious cases while Lorrell retrieved more potions, bandages, and anything else the two witches needed as they worked.

They heard the agonizing screams from below.

"We're going to need more Pain Potion," said the mediwitch.

It was hard seeing the people Hermione knew in such pain. She was spared the casualties, but calming a sixth year who had just seen his friend die, and trying to tell him everything would be alright, felt like a lie. Who knew if it would be alright? Even if they won and Voldemort was vanquished, things would still not be _alright_.

Teachers and students, Death Eaters and Order members, family and friends would be gone. There would be people to capture, and a Ministry to reorganize. Trials, and laws, and who knew what else?

No, she could not simply tell the shaken Zahrt that everything would be alright.

"Your arm will hurt less soon," she said, giving him the only certainty she could as she helped him drink the sweet solution.

With each new person who came in, she looked for _him_. But since he had left her earlier with Draco, Hermione had not seen Severus.

A moment's respite came over the hospital wing as they finished tending to the immediate cases. Hermione looked out the window into the darkness with one palm pressed against the glass, wondering when and if he would return to her and what his state would be when he did.

Only after that did she wonder about Voldemort as well. She knew Severus and his luck. Hermione had more faith in Harry killing the Dark Lord than she did in Severus finding his way back to her unharmed.

She rested her head against the cool pane to wait.

**Teaser: **"I…well. That is to say, we…, um, we're…We're together."


	37. Chapter 36

**Author's Note: **Four chapters after this, my lovely readers. Should be finished November 28th. Roughly 220 reviews to 1,000. Will we make it? What if I promise lemons and sexi time?

**Playlist: http:/ /www .youtube .com/watch?v=nU6aPgEYgPQ**

**Chapter Thirty Six**

When Severus finally found Hermione, the hour was late, and the night had taken on a chill.

After the battle was complete, the headmistress contacted the Ministry and informed them that they had some ruffians to retrieve and that Voldemort was vanquished.

This time, there was even a body.

The capable witches and wizards were busier than ever. The ones on the ground were retrieving the bodies and placing them in a line, regardless of affiliation. A few were helping the wounded up to the Infirmary, and Hermione and Poppy were physically, mentally, emotionally, and magically exhausted.

That night was the second time Hermione watched someone die she was incapable of saving.

On the cot lay a little body, bleeding from his mouth and ears. His eyes were closed, and he had barely spoken a word. Hermione quickly called for Madam Pomfrey.

The matron scanned her wand over the form, quietly shook her head and stepped away.

Hermione's heart clutched painfully in her chest. Not him. Not him too. Fighting back tears, she put on a brave face as one eye opened to look at her.

"It's alright, Miss," he said. "Dobby is a good house-elf. Dobby helped the friends of Harry Potter."

And then the little house-elf spoke no more.

Soon after, another body came in, this time at least on his own two feet. Looking haggard and drawn, and definitely the worse for wear, the man came in and asked just one thing.

"Hermione?"

Hermione spun in her tracks and launched herself as the man slumped against the doorframe. Without a thought, she rained kisses on his dirty face while Madam Pomfrey just shook her head and continued monitoring the stable patients.

"Don't you ever do that to me again! Next evil overlord, and I am going to be down there fighting with you! What happened? Did Harry get him? Did he survive? Are you alright?"

Severus was winded from the curly-haired Bludger. "There was a battle, yes, yes, and yes."

Hermione gave him a playful slap on the arm before turning to the matron. "Poppy, are you going to need more assistance?"

"No, dear. You and Lorrell have done quite enough. Now everyone just needs to rest, and that includes you. Off you go."

The survivors of the battle – for they had yet to feel like winners – agreed to meet the following day. The Ministry was swift in few things, but they were always able to expedite anything that made them look good. In the afternoon the next day, there would be a large celebration to announce the fall of Voldemort.

Hermione followed Severus to his chambers and gave him a kiss goodnight. As she went to step back through the portrait hole, she felt a hand on her arm.

"No," he said earnestly. "Never again. I wish for you to be here."

She nodded, understanding completely. Coming back in, they each poured a cup of tea while the other took a shower.

When Hermione came out, she was in nothing but a bra and knickers. His eyes widened, briefly misinterpreting her.

She walked up to him and removed his shirt. "I want to feel you," Hermione told him, running a small hand down his pale chest.

Stepping out of his trousers as well, he followed her to bed. Under the covers, they lay front to front, arms around each other, waiting for sleep to come. Both were too tired, too elated, and too full of sorrow for sleep to be merciful and come quickly.

~~HGSS~~

The following morning in separate parts of the castle, two very similar scenes were playing out.

"I'm not wearing that, Ginny! I'll look like a…a tart!"

"Just trust me," the redhead told Hermione.

Downstairs, the same could be heard.

"I'm not wearing that!" Severus exclaimed while the mirror sniggered in the background. "I only wear black."

"Precisely. And this is charcoal. It's close enough to black to make you comfortable, but it is a little less foreboding. Now quit being contrary and put it on!"

Minerva left the room without a backward glance, leaving Severus in his trousers holding new dress robes.

~~HGSS~~

The celebration for the victory in the Battle of Hogwarts was held on a sunny afternoon on the twelfth of June. The lawn of Hogwarts was covered in neat rows of white chairs with a large stage and podium at the front. Refreshments were provided by the house-elves of Hogwarts, who today wore a black crest on their tea towels in memory of the lives lost, including one of their own.

Anyone who was anyone, and a good portion of those who were not, were in attendance. All the students, from seventh year down to first, and the majority of their parents were present, as was the staff of the ministry, the members of the Order, and a good portion of the surrounding wizarding community.

It seemed as though many were feeling the bonhomie of the crowd and were proud just to be able to tell their grandchildren someday, "I was there at the celebration for the defeat of Voldemort."

It was common knowledge that the day would be hot, the speeches would be long, and it would shortly become more about grandstanding than the defeat of the Dark Lord. The only true test of the sincerity of the politicians would be in where they put their money once this was over. And now the populace was aware of what could happen when reform wasn't carried through. Already, there was a call for the head of the Minister and those who had repeatedly ignored the warnings for the past three years that Voldemort had returned.

Small tables were set up to commemorate each of the dead. Most of the injured were able to still take part in the festivities, and there was a radio set up to broadcast the speeches to the world and those who were still in the Infirmary or at St. Mungo's.

Hermione was fussing with her hair. It would absolutely not behave in this hot, humid weather. And the dress Ginny had put her in was cool, but it was almost scandalous. The summer dress did not have the boat neck Hermione preferred. Instead, the sweetheart neckline showed off more than her Yule Ball dress had. She had received only compliments but was afraid of what Severus would think.

She need not have worried. The man in question almost stopped in his tracks when he saw his love pulling on a few curls with an adorable pout on her face.

The tea-length skirt and ample chest did not hurt his appreciation.

"Can I help you, Miss?" he asked in a deep, rumbling tone.

Hermione jumped at first before giving him another playful swat. "Stop that! This is serious! I can't go out there looking like an electrified Crookshanks!"

She teased with it a minute more before admiring his outfit. "My, don't you look handsome today? Did Minerva dress you?"

His glare and uncomfortable tug on his robes was all the answer she needed. His discomfiture reminded her of when they had first started to spend time together, and she smiled.

"And what's so funny?" Severus asked, cross.

"Nothing, love. Just remembering. You do look handsome."

"Hmm. Well. They want you to begin gathering soon. I'll be near the back if you need me."

As he walked away, Hermione couldn't help but purse her lips a little. It bothered her that he did not see himself as part of the Order, who was supposed to gather today on stage. She knew not everyone would be receiving a medal, but she still felt that his presence was important.

However, no words from her or Minerva were going to change his mind.

Hermione headed back behind the large curtain to where the rest of the group had gathered. There were a few less today than yesterday. She wondered if the funerals would be as exalted as the celebration.

Today just felt like a whirlwind. Waking up, being hustled off to dress and rehearse what she needed to say, and getting prepared, when all she wanted to do was crawl back under the covers and sleep until it was tomorrow.

But through everything that happened, there was joy. Today was about freedom and hope and the change it promised to bring. The oppression of Muggle-borns would stop. The raids would end, the murders would cease, and the corruption in the Ministry would go back to pre-Voldemort levels.

Harry and Ginny sat next to each other, each sporting two small golden bands. They could not be seen from the crowd, but they would surely be noticed at the following reception and in the papers tomorrow. Ron sat next to them with Lorrell, Charlie and Katie filling out the row, the American looking decidedly uncomfortable being hoisted onto a stage. Lorrell could be heard whispering, "And why am I up here again?"

Hermione sat behind them, next to Molly, the twins, Bill, and Fleur. The rest sat behind them, waiting for their cue.

A long speech from the Minister of Magic, who was carefully tiptoeing around his own negligence in the matter, preceded them. Scrimgeour told the crowd about the valiant heroes who had risked and lost their lives for the safety of the wizarding world. He told them of their bravery, their courage, and their cunning. He especially praised the students of Dumbledore's Army for persevering through adversity, and aiding the cause at such a young age. Orders of Merlin, third class, would be awarded to each of them, including the students who had protected the younger ones inside the castle.

Scrimgeour then spoke of the dead. How the statue at the Ministry was now a reality. Wizards, witches, house-elves, and even house pets had all lost their lives on these very grounds less than twenty-four hours past.

Of brave Fang and his protection of Hagrid. Of Dobby, the bravest house elf.

Of students who had perished, such as Nate Sterling and Terry Boot.

And even little Colin Creevey, who had found himself on the wrong end of a wand as he bravely fought to protect Luna against a Death Eater.

One teacher had lost her life that day, and one former one, of a sort.

Alastor Moody had gone down in a blaze of spell fire. He had simply made too many enemies in his years as an Auror, and not even his magical eye could protect him once his identity became known. Three of Voldemort's followers cornered him in a courtyard, and before it was known that he was missing, the man had perished.

And Professor Miller had also lost her young life. Her skills in the classroom had not prepared her for fighting, and she had not been a part of the Order. Hearing the commotion outside, she had quickly joined the fray. However, her life of nonviolence had made her reluctant to use the more powerful spells. Her teaching robes made her a quick target for Bellatrix, who remembered with disdain her time at the school and the night Dumbledore was killed. Her cackle could be heard as she tortured the teacher before finally finishing her off.

On the list went, and even the Death Eaters were spoken of, as well as those who were now in prison.

"And as for the people responsible for putting them there, let us present to you, The Order of the Phoenix!"

The curtain was pulled back to show the now standing members. One by one they were called forth to receive a first- or second-class Order of Merlin. Hermione was a little perplexed when her name was not called.

"And now we have a special presentation. In light of their extraordinary efforts, we wish to highlight a few individuals. First, Harry Potter!"

The crowd went wild with cheering, hats in the air and fireworks. Calls of "The Chosen One!" and "The Boy Who Lived Twice!" could be heard as Harry received his medal, first class, of course.

"We have created a special medallion for you, Harry. The Crux Vita is a medal that shall be established in your name. It will be a sacred honor given only to those who have dedicated their lives to the betterment of others and have helped change the lives of all wizards. This award shall also be posthumously awarded to Albus Dumbledore."

As the crowd again cheered, Hermione's eyes found Severus leaning against a small table, rolling his eyes with his arms crossed.

Some things never changed, even if he was wearing charcoal.

"And we have another special award to present. Hermione Granger, would you come up here please?"

Hermione dutifully stood, looking around her self-consciously before coming to the front of the stage.

The Minster bent down and whispered something into her ear, and she gave a little jerk of her head.

"And Severus Snape, would you join us please?" asked the Minister, finding the man in question in the crowd.

One brow arched, and arms still crossed, he ascended the stage as though he were once again facing Lockhart to duel.

"I have for you both an Order of Merlin, first class. Also, in regards to your tireless perseverance in researching ways to defeat V-Voldemort, and in honor of the extraordinary lengths you took to achieve that goal, we have created a medal for you as well. You shall both receive a Lux Lucis, in reward for your academic enlightenment and contribution to the Battle of Hogwarts."

Scrimgeour placed the medal around each of their necks.

Severus almost lost his façade of indifference as he fingered the medal around his neck. The medal created just for him.

For him and for her.

For Severus and Hermione.

For them.

He liked that.

Scrimgeour smiled at the perplexed expression on the quiet wizard's face as he handed a small box to Hermione.

"Inside," he explained, "you'll find a smaller version, for I hear we lost one small solider in yesterday's battle who deserves our respect."

Hermione felt the tears hot against her warm cheeks as she politely nodded and turned away. She was deaf to the loud cheers as Severus put his arm around her and led her back to her seat. A seventh seat was added to the end of the row as he sat beside her, still holding her hand and whispering words of condolence.

A few more speeches were delivered, including one by Kingsley Shacklebolt that had the audience alternately in tears and stitches. The rumor through the crowd was that it would not be long before he saw the highest position at the Ministry.

But soon, even the heroes grew weary, and they concluded the celebration for a reception to follow in the Great Hall. Each Order member stayed for what was considered a suitable length of time before they each made their apologies and went to Apparate back to their headquarters at Grimmauld, where they could let their hair down so to speak and not have to worry about censoring the true events of the day and their feelings on the matter.

After about two hours, Hermione and Severus made eye contact across the crowded room, and he tilted his head slightly to the door.

Politely excusing herself from the conversation, Hermione sashayed across the floor and out the door, Severus close on her heels.

"I'll pack an overnight bag and meet you at the front door in ten minutes, alright?"

He agreed, and they parted.

Hermione quickly packed a few overnight things, shrunk her quilt, and picked up the nightie, debated, but then put it back and chose some short shorts and a tank top.

She ran down the stairs like she was about to turn into a pumpkin and came to a skidding halt when she saw Harry and Ginny waiting as well.

"Hurry up!" hissed Ginny.

Harry grinned sheepishly, "We're using you for cover and said we had to all go do an interview."

"Quick thinking, Harry," Hermione answered as they headed to the Apparition point and left with a bang.

A few seconds later, Harry popped back, grabbed on to the pouting and still underage Ginny, and Apparated back to Grimmauld Place.

"It's not funny!" Ginny exclaimed as Hermione laughed, and even Severus had to smirk at Potter forgetting his new bride.

Heading inside the magical house, most of the Order was already there. Hermione immediately headed for the kitchen where she could hear laughter and smell something savory and delicious.

She moaned appreciatively at Molly Weasley pulling a roast out of the oven with all the fixings in the pan. Rolls were already set out on the table with other appetizers, and Hermione grabbed a plate.

"What?" she told Severus at his curious glance. "I haven't had anything more than punch and salad in almost twenty-four hours!"

"Arthur? What happened?" Harry asked, feeling déjà vu at the elder Weasley sitting at the head of the table with a bandage around his neck.

"That blasted, ruddy, fu-"

"Arthur!"

"-fuming snake!" he finished, slightly red in the face from anger and his chastisement.

"But we saw you get hit by a spell!" said Ron.

"And so I did. Petrified. Your mum was able to Stun Bellatrix, but the snake was with her and managed to bite me – again! – before Molly could even cast _Vipera Evanecsa_. Handy, that one, Severus. Thanks."

Snape just shrugged and grabbed a roll as Hermione smiled and nudged his shoulder, causing him to give her a little smirk in return.

They both had a feeling they were being watched around the table. Arthur and Molly both sat with one eye on them, and even Bill and Fleur had stopped cooing over each other long enough to look at the curiosity on the other side of the table. Harry and Ginny both sat with their heads down, fighting laughter. Even Neville, who had been invited back to the feast, was openly watching them.

"What?" asked Hermione.

"Is there something you would like to share with us, dear?" asked Molly politely.

"Um, no, I don't think so," she said, looking around the table, confused.

"Nothing at all," Molly continued.

"Nothing about something?" added Arthur unhelpfully.

With a sharp inhale, Hermione cottoned on. She looked up at Severus with fear and trepidation, and he just gave her the same shrug as if to say, "It had to happen sometime."

"I…well. That is to say, we…, um, we're…. We're together." (1)

Everyone turned sharply at the rousing chorus from the chess set that had been placed on the buffet.

"'Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Hallelujah, hallelujah, halle…lujah!'"

The eyes of the crowd slowly returned to the odd couple at hand.

"I love her," said Severus simply, much to the astonishment of the rest of their company. Even those who were aware of their attachment gaped at the couple, dumbfounded.

Even Hermione was gaping until she recovered enough to respond, "And I love him back."

"First Ginny, and now you! And just how long has this been going on, young lady?" Molly inquired, hands on her hips.

"Um, officially? Since the first of April. But it feels like since before Christmas."

"Definitely since Christmas," said Severus.

"Totally," said Ginny.

"Oh yeah," chimed in Lorrell.

"You both knew?" asked Remus.

"You knew?" Tonks asked her boyfriend.

Remus shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "Perhaps…there was a mention."

"And when was this _mention_?"

"Easter."

"Easter!" exclaimed Tonks. "And you never said anything! You sly dog."

"But how?" asked Neville, completely and utterly boggled at how Hermione Granger had ended up with Professor Snape.

"I'm afraid a bit of that blame rests with me," said McGonagall in a slightly slurred voice from the far end of the table. It seemed as though she had nipped into the scotch a little early in a private celebration.

"And I'm sure I could take my share," added the portrait of Dumbledore from the kitchen.

"Just exactly who knew of this?" asked Arthur.

Remus, Harry, Ginny, Lorrell, Ron, and Minerva raised their hands. Even Dumbledore did from his portrait.

"Well," said Kingsley. "That left the rest of us in the dark."

"And you never told me!" Molly exclaimed as the two in question both winced at her matronly hurt and indignation.

"Well, Molly, we did have other things to attend to," answered Severus, uneasy at being the center of attention.

"And to answer your question from earlier," said Hermione, "We started spending time together when Severus was still working for Voldemort. He was having trouble resting and my piano playing helped, so Minerva asked if I would inform him where I was going to be so he could come relax. We got to know each other and became friends, and it all just happened from there."

"And you're all okay with this?" Tonks asked the students.

"You adjust," said Ron with a shrug.

"Severus and Hermione," Arthur said with a shake of his head. "Well, on that note, I think I'll be going to bed now."

The rest of the room watched the awkward couple as Arthur left the room, still shaking his head.

~~HGSS~~

Severus was in his room reclining on the bed when he heard a short knock. Creaking the door open, he peered outside.

"Move over, you git, and let me in!"

He stepped aside as Hermione came in, her overnight bag in tow. Tossing it on a nearby chair, she told him, "There's no point in pretending now, is there? And I'd much rather sleep in here with you, if that's alright."

"Of course that's fine. I just declared my love for you in front of the whole bloody Order. I think that means I want you in my bed, Hermione."

"Well good, 'cause you're getting me," she said with a smile as she kissed him. "That was a very sweet thing to say, by the way."

"Yes, well, you were the one to do it first," Severus told her, accepting her kisses.

"True, but I never expected you to reciprocate. I'm going to grab a shower, care to join me?"

His eyes shot up in a comical fashion. "Yes."

"Come on then," Hermione told him with a little wiggle of her bum as she headed out the door.

"She is going to be the death of me," muttered Severus as he followed behind.

Hermione began running a hot shower in the large bathroom. Once it reached the desired temperature, she turned to him with a mischievous grin. Slowly, she grasped the bottom of her tank top, sliding it up just over her navel, and then just under her breasts, before pulling it off her head and tossing it at him, revealing that she wasn't wearing a bra.

He watched her, unable to take his eyes away from his first striptease.

And he highly doubted that he would feel much different if it was his fourth or twenty-second striptease from Hermione.

She hooked her thumbs into her little terry cloth shorts – ones that were practically indecent in his opinion, not that he cared at the moment – and turned around so that her deliciously sweet little bum came into view as she slowly pulled them off. Her smooth round cheeks were just begging to be spanked, and he wondered if that was something they would enjoy as he felt himself grow hard.

Hermione bent over, giving a peek at her quim as she slipped the shorts off her feet. "See anything you like?"

Severus stepped behind her, pulling her bum into contact with his hard erection. "What do you think?"

"I think we should do something about that."

She sat back on the tub while she watched him undress. Having on only a shirt and trousers, and being as impatient as he now was, Severus quickly divested himself of his clothing, and Hermione marveled once again at having a naked Potion's Master at her beck and call.

"Severus!" she exclaimed. "Your mark! It's gone!"

"Yes, I know," he told her.

"Why didn't you say something?"

He shrugged. "It seemed unimportant in the scheme of things."

In truth, he was just coming to terms with it. For twenty years he had lived branded as the servant of the Dark Lord. Always wearing long sleeves, careful his arm could not be seen, trying to hide what could not be fully hidden.

And that mark was gone, along with his second master. He was a slave to someone no longer. For the first time, he was his own man, free to make decisions, to be frivolous, and to be whomever he now was without a care for how it would affect this war or that person or his position with either side.

And the first thing he wanted to do was join this beautiful nymph who was beckoning him into the shower.

He didn't know where his life had started to go right, but he was thankful.

Severus let out a playful growl as he grabbed Hermione in the shower, and she let out a shriek.

"Your hands are freezing!" she exclaimed, hiding under the jet of warm water. Severus reached out and grabbed his wand, and suddenly there were two jets of water in the shower.

She was standing with her back to him and his cock nuzzled against the globes of her rear. Hermione was lathering up when she felt his hand slide down her hip and a large finger move through her lower lips to lightly rub her clit. She braced herself against the wall before her legs gave out.

Spreading her legs apart, Hermione encouraged him, knowing he could feel the difference between the water and her warm juices.

"Merlin, I wish you could just take me right here."

His cock twitched against her.

"Two weeks," he whispered roughly in her ear, sending another rush to where his hand was rubbing against her.

"Are you going to help me take my mind off it?"

Suddenly, Hermione found herself sitting on the small toiletry shelf in the corner of the shower, her legs spread as his head went between them, tongue deftly licking her and suckling her clitoris.

She was breathing hard, and her feet fought for purchase on the slick tile walls. Grasping the top of his shoulders, Hermione watched his nose penetrate her as she felt his tongue burying deep inside her little hole, tasting her and playing with the edge.

"Oh God, oh Merlin," she began to babble, telling him she was not going to be long if he kept that up, she was not going to be long at all. Clutching one hand into the inky-black wet locks of his long hair, she fisted it tightly, hearing his groan of pleasure as he replaced his tongue with two fingers and licked her clit as he fiercely finger-fucked her.

He groaned at her words and latched onto the little bud between her thighs, flicking it back and forth. Hermione's back arched, and her legs clenched onto his shoulders as she came, crying out loudly.

She sat there trying to catch her breath as she looked at the unconventionally handsome wizard on his knees smirking up at her, water splashing against the side of his face.

Hermione hopped down with a grin and grabbed the shampoo bottle. Before he could get off his knees, her hands were in his hair, and he released another moan. Damn, but that felt good. Hermione's fingers washed and conditioned his scalp, giving it a thorough massage. Instructing him to leave in the conditioner for a moment, she began to wash herself.

Severus was beginning to wonder if she was just going to leave him there, penis throbbing in the hot water. He reached down to stroke himself when she batted his hand away and replaced it with her own sudsy one. Her little hand was tight around his shaft, and her other soapy one played with his balls. The slick of the soap against his smooth skin felt like what he imagined she would feel like, and his hips bucked into her hand.

Hermione gripped him roughly, and he moaned louder.

"Yes, witch, oh, just like that," he told her with his eyes closed and his head leaning against the back wall.

Severus felt a spray of water against his torso just before her lips began sucking him off. He was attempting to restrain himself from putting his hands in her hair when she grabbed one and put it there.

"I don't know if my legs will hold," he told her, feeling his knees grow wobbly from the pleasure in his groin. She ignored him, sucking harder, and soon it was his turn to tell her that he was close to falling over the edge.

Hermione looked up from his thick rod, gave him a calculating look, and then lowered her mouth back to him.

"But I'm going to…going to come…oh _fuck_," he groaned loudly as he came in her mouth, the hot stream hitting her throat. She took him easily, licking his sensitive tip as she let him go.

"I thought you didn't…you know," he managed, panting as he held himself against the slick wall.

Hermione shrugged. "There are a lot of things I didn't like when I was with someone who wasn't you. I figured I'd give it a chance."

"And?" he asked with trepidation.

"It wasn't nearly as bad as I expected," she said with a grin. "But not something I'd do all the time. Special occasions, and when you've been particularly good."

"Or how about when I've been particularly naughty?"

She giggled. "That too."

He was going to enjoy having her.

And in two weeks, he was going to enjoy _having_ her.

They finally finished washing, grateful the magical hot water heater kept the shower from growing cold.

Dressing quickly, they stepped out of the bathroom. As soon as Hermione's feet hit the hallway floorboards, a head popped out of one of the bedrooms.

"Two words. Silencing Charm," said Tonks with a sleepy but devilish smile, and the couple grimaced, wondering who else in the house was aware of their bathroom activities.

Slinking to their room before anyone else had their say, Hermione quickly shut the door and let out a nervous giggle.

"I really hope Minerva didn't hear anything!"

"She is probably too drunk to notice Armageddon."

As they finished getting ready for bed, Hermione debated pulling out her blanket. She decided she had to come clean sometime as she really was fond of the cool cotton weight on her bed.

Severus watched her enlarge it.

"It's, um, it's the blanket you put on me the night I broke up with Ron. I'm afraid it made its way into my school trunk, and I've become rather fond of it over the year. Perhaps I was interested in you earlier than I realized."

"Then I have a confession as well."

Hermione watched, intrigued, as he removed a small square of cloth from the pocket of his robes.

"This was from the pillow you Transformed. I suppose it became a sort of security…hanky when you weren't around. I've kept it with me always, and it's what your white king was wrapped in when he traveled with me."

He handed it to her, a look of wonder on her face as she stroked the small blue initials on the soft cloth. Fingering it for a moment, she handed it back. He began to protest, but she hushed him.

"I know how attached I am to this blanket, and I would be very cross if someone took it. Besides, I have other handkerchiefs; that one is from a set from my mother. And if I ever want it back, I know where to find you."

Severus gave her a sheepish smile, wondering what she would think about his drawer of keepsakes in his desk as he returned the cloth to its rightful place.

As she dimmed the lights, he put her blanket on the bed, and they both fell into restful slumber.

**Teaser: **But her heart cried again. _I'm not ready. I'm not ready for this. I'll never be ready._

_But I must._


	38. Chapter 37

**A/N: **Little later today since I was celebrating my great-grandmother's 100th birthday! She has over 135 direct descendants! And for those interested, I start my third trimester on Tuesday already!

And my personal opinion, if you listen to the accompanying music, listen to the second song. It's beautiful and I'm very happy to have stumbled on it.

Three to go.

**Playlist: **http:/ /www .youtube .com/view_play_list?p=6B88C873BDEFC38B

**Chapter Thirty Seven**

The following morning after breakfast, Minerva pulled Hermione aside.

"Don't worry, Minerva, we'll still be the essence of discretion-"

"No, my dear, your relationship with Severus isn't what I needed to talk to you about," said McGonagall.

"It isn't?"

Minerva led the young woman into the parlor. "No, it isn't. We seem to have a bit of a problem. With the passing of Professor Miller, bless her, we need someone to cover Transfiguration for a few weeks. With N.E.W.T.s right around the corner, it will be more of a proctored study session, but we thought perhaps you would be willing?" she asked with a hopeful look in her eye. "You, of course, would be able to study as much as you wished, and we figured you are probably ahead in your work anyhow. And you would be paid."

Hermione sighed. "I'll do it. But I don't want payment. Put it towards the victims and survivors fund."

Minerva looked at her strangely until Hermione added, "Consider it hush money," and the older witch laughed.

~~HGSS~~

The next week at Hogwarts was chaos defined. More than likely, every student ended up in detention at least once. It was extremely difficult, especially for the older ones who had been through so much at the school, to understand that despite this victory, school would still go on.

"It did not stop school when he was alive, and school will not stop once he is dead either!" exclaimed McGonagall.

Hermione spent her nights in Severus's room looking over the notes she had made on each teacher and setting up her teacher profile. She had even drawn out an outline of how she would teach, based on points and counterpoints of her observances.

The majority of Hermione's belongings had also made it into Severus's quarters. At first it was just a few books and some school supplies, but then the house-elves started returning her laundry to his drawers. She assumed it was because she was sleeping there. Severus said he didn't mind, so she let it go.

Hermione dressed in her first set of teaching robes, ones that she had bought at the start of the year along with her school things. Of a finer material than her student ones, the dark blue complimented her nicely, and they had a more stylish, if very conservative cut. They made her look like a woman.

Striding into her first class, fifth-year Slytherins and Gryffindors, she began to discuss with them the layout for the rest of the year.

"Although, I am to understand you will probably have questions about the events of the weekend. Is there anything I can answer?" she asked.

"Did you see Voldemort die?"

"Did Harry Potter really do it?"

"Are you dating Professor Snape?"

Well, damn. It seemed as though Dumbledore was right. They wanted it to be a secret, so naturally, the whole school knew.

"No, yes, and cross me, and you might find out, Mr. Hart," she sternly told the black-haired Gryffindor.

That pretty much set the tone for the rest of her week. Each class the first two days started with questions about the battle and about Professor Snape, but they quickly died down when it became evident she wasn't going to answer the rumor.

Coming into his rooms that Tuesday evening, she asked him if he was getting asked about her.

"No, why would they ask me personal questions?"

"True," she said with a sigh. "I'm threatening them with you, is that alright?"

"I do it every day," he answered flatly without looking up from his grading.

Now that she had seen each year, class settled into a more relaxed pattern of covering certain parts of each year per day. Hermione attempted to group similar parts of different years together to help them get a firm grasp of the overall content. Thus, her evenings were spent putting together revision schedules for the whole school and not just her friends.

Her friends had surprisingly taken things in stride.

"What's different, Hermione?" Harry asked.

"Now you can officially yell at us," Ron added.

She was half tempted to ask Draco if he had said anything to the other Slytherins. They had been surprised at Draco's actions during the Fall, but he had kept their respect, and none of them insulted her in class.

Maybe they had just found out that the rumors were right, and she was spending her nights in the dungeons.

That Thursday, as she lay propped up on the couch, Hermione asked Severus for a favor.

"What are you doing this weekend?" she asked.

"Avoiding reporters. You?" he answered as he flipped a page in the _Daily Prophet_, which was currently running daily biographies on a few of the Order and Death Eater members. Hermione wondered where they put Severus, and if they mentioned Draco at all.

"I was wondering if you would come out to the country with me."

"Why?" he asked, peering over the edge of his paper.

She struggled for the right words. "I feel like I need to visit the graves of my parents. I haven't been there, not since the funeral. It's been so busy this year, and with the heightened security, we couldn't really leave the grounds. I want to go now, but…I don't want to go alone."

Severus nodded his consent. He had never formally met her parents, but he wanted to pay his respects. "I will accompany you."

Plans were set for that Saturday, one week after the battle. It would do them both good to get out for the day.

~~HGSS~~

It had rained that Friday evening, keeping the students inside and causing Severus to worry that it would ruin the outing planned with Hermione. Fortunately, though it was a little overcast, the sun was out the next morning, and they could leave after lunch as planned.

Hermione was in summer robes, but underneath he noticed she had on Muggle clothes. She hadn't told him to do the same, so he wore his usual jacket and slacks. Passersby would probably just assume he was going to a funeral.

They walked side by side past the wards at the front gate to Apparate. She took his arm tightly, and then they Apparated to a small Muggle cemetery surrounded by upper-middle-class, two-story homes.

He held her close, not ashamed for anyone to see them there together. Severus followed her lead as Hermione wove them through row after row of headstones in the quiet cemetery.

In a far back corner stood a double headstone. Name, birth, and death for each of her parents were in their own heart, each slightly overlapping the other. The edges were hewn roughly, and it stood on a platform with a small granite rose at the bottom.

"My mother loved to garden," Hermione whispered. "And my father used to love to watch her out in the blooms. He said she was in her element." She took off her shoulder bag and took out the perfectly preserved Gentle Hermione rose Severus had brought her, gently laying it on the headstone.

"Probably like you in the library."

"Probably. After I started Hogwarts, I didn't get to see her out there much. It was mostly in the spring," she said sadly.

Severus read the inscription on the top of the stone.

_Granger_

_Together in death as they were in life._

_Devoted husband and wife._

_Loving father and mother._

Hermione knelt down to the stone as Severus stood behind her. As was her custom, she began to talk.

"Hi, Dad, Mum. I'm sorry I haven't been here sooner. It's been quite the crazy year." She ignored Severus's huff at her understatement.

"I think you'd be proud. I'm going to teach at Hogwarts my very first year out of school. Professor McGonagall, Minerva, is the headmistress now, and she needed someone to take over for her. We had a replacement, but she…she died. The war is over now. Only by a week. Voldemort was defeated, and I helped. Well, you know me, I wasn't on the battlefield, but I helped create a potion to weaken him. Yes, that does sound much more like me doesn't it?"

Hermione shifted around in the grass until she sat with her legs crossed and began to speak again. "And, you see, I've met someone. You were right, Mum, as usual. Things didn't work out with Ron. But, of course, it was for the better. I'm with Severus now and well…" She leaned forward toward the stone as if Severus wasn't supposed to hear her. "I think it's kind of serious."

She straightened. "I love him, you see. And he loves me too. We have much in common, and he can put up with my pouts, my snits, and my grumps. I think you would approve of him, after you got over the shock that he was my professor…no, I guess you wouldn't be that surprised, would you? He was the tall and dark one. Yes, very not-Weasley. He…," she hesitated, "I smile at just the mention of his name. I remember you said to look for that."

Severus stood a little straighter behind her.

"I miss you both though. Sometimes I miss you so much. The first few weeks were the hardest. Crookshanks kept crying to go back, and he would wander the Burrow, looking for you. Pretty much everything was destroyed. I have a few mementos, some clothes, photos, but the piano, Mother's china set, and Father's library are all gone. They repaired and sold the house. The practice too. I just couldn't live there. I know you'd understand. I'm fairly well off now, as I'm sure you intended, but I'm still going to work, just like you taught me. I donated some to the school too, to start a trust fund for a scholarship. I found out I'm related to the Weasleys too. Did you know? I haven't told them yet. They've been so great during the past year that I didn't want to make things awkward. But it's not the same. It will never be the same."

Sitting in the grass, gently touching the side of the headstone, Hermione began to sing.

"'You were once my one companion. You were all that mattered. You were once a friend and father-  
then my world was shattered...'"

Hermione remembered back to her first year at Hogwarts, owling her parents that first month, telling them she didn't fit in there. That she would never have friends and never belong. Her father had written her back and told her to give it time. That even the hardest stone is worn away by nothing but water if you give it enough time.

"'Wishing you were somehow here again, wishing you were somehow near. Sometimes it seemed if I just dreamed, somehow you would be here...'"

In her dreams, they could be so real she would wake with her arms outstretched, reaching for her mother.

"'Wishing I could hear your voice again, knowing that I never would,'" Hermione sang as her voice broke in anguish, knowing she would never hear the tinkling laughter of her mother or her father's off-key baritone. "'Dreaming of you won't help me to do all that you dreamed I could.'" No, she needed to learn to move on, to become a Transfiguration Mistress. To become whatever it was she would be to Severus.

"'Passing bells and sculpted angels, cold and monumental, seem, for you, the wrong companions. You were warm and gentle.'"

She hugged herself tightly, thinking that her children would never know the great big bear hugs from her father. When you were in them, it felt like he could solve any problem and you were warm and safe again.

Hermione thought back to her childhood and her mother's doting nature. Even at sixteen, her mom had still brought her soup and sat with her until she fell asleep when she was ill over the summer, softly talking to her and rubbing her forehead.

"'Too many years fighting back tears...Why can't the past just die? Wishing you were somehow here again, knowing we must say goodbye.'"

But her heart cried again. _I'm not ready. I'm not ready for this. I'll never be ready._

_But I must._

"'Try to forgive.'" _Voldemort_. "'Teach me to live.'" _Severus_. "'Give me the strength to try...'" _Teaching_.

"'No more memories, no more silent tears,'" Hermione sang fiercely, "'no more gazing across the wasted years.'"

Why? Why, oh why, had she gone to Hogwarts in the first place? None of this would have ever happened. And her time spent back at the Burrow, all wasted time away from her parents. If only she had known…

But no. She knew what her parents would say, _Hermione Jean, that's life. Sometimes you just have to roll with it, baby girl. And only hindsight is twenty-twenty. Keep your eyes forward, never forgetting where you came from but not forgetting where you're going either_.

Hermione grasped the edge of the headstone and rested her other hand on the granite rose. She whispered, "'Help me say goodbye...'"

Then she looked at Severus, pain and anguish in her eyes, pleading for him to help her. "Help me say goodbye."

He knelt to her then, wrapping her in a big bear hug that made her cry even harder.

But inside his hug, she felt safe.

And with her inside his hug, he felt needed.

And he knew then, without a doubt, that someday, far into the future, he wanted there to be a double headstone with their names on it.

And he wanted her to have a house where she could plant roses.

And he wanted his library to be hers.

And he didn't even care if her abominable feline slept in the bed with them as long as she was there to share it too.

They held each other until her sobs were sniffles, and together, hand in hand, they left the cemetery.

~~HGSS~~

Arriving back on the school grounds, there was one more place she wanted to go.

"Come with me?" she asked, and he followed her across the green grass.

In the distance, growing larger, was the white tomb of Albus Dumbledore, which was also now the last spot to have seen Tom Riddle alive.

Neither Hermione nor Severus had been out there to survey the damage done to the school. The celebration had been out there, but everything had been covered in flowers, garland, and people.

The funerals had mostly been held in the afternoons in the Great Hall during the past week.

Now that the ground was clear, they could see the true scope of the battle. Chunks of stone were missing from the otherwise formidable castle. Scorch marks ran across some walls and doors, and there were even a few on the tomb itself. The grass had not yet grown over, leaving some areas with divots put back in, and some grass was just burned away altogether.

Severus approached the coffin calmly but with trepidation. He had never really said his own goodbyes to the meddling codger who had been like a father to him for so long. Misguided as it may have been, he still felt some affection for Albus, and he believed the old man felt the same, even if he had become too wrapped up in the war effort and its Golden Boy.

Hermione stopped a respectful distance away and let him approach alone. This wasn't like the last time they had been here, when they had needed a portion of the departed headmaster and their visit had been business. No, this visit could not be called pleasure, but it was certainly personal.

A vertical line appeared on Severus's forehead as his face became pensive. He stood there for some time, his jacket and the hair lightly touching his shoulders gently waving in the strong breeze off the lake.

Hermione watched the sun trace its path in the sky, playing hide and seek with the clouds. Slowly she approached him, intentionally making a little noise before she placed a hand on his back, supporting him with her presence as he had done for her so many times.

"You alright?" she asked softly, and just the fact that she did meant the world to him.

His face was somber and his voice grave as he answered, "I'm fine." Severus looked down at the young woman looking back up at him. "Better than I have ever been."

"I have something to ask you," Hermione said. "Minerva said it was alright, but I wanted your opinion." She knelt and took off the shoulder bag she had been carrying the rose in, now removing a box. Her chess box.

Opening it up, she clutched a small bag close to her before dumping the contents into her hand. "It's my king," said Hermione in a quiet tone. "Minerva said it would be alright if I put him in the white tomb also. But I wanted to know if you thought that was okay, if it would be alright with Albus."

"I think that he would be honored. And they will certainly keep each other company."

As Severus opened the tomb with a few deft wand movements, Hermione set out her small chess orchestra. At Severus's inquiry, she explained that they wished to pay their last respects to their fallen comrade.

Hermione placed the small shards on the bag laid out on the green grass in front of them, and then the pair stood back and let the pieces come forward to see the remains of the white king. A few bowed their heads and stepped back, while others bent down to lightly touch the pale shards.

The black queen refused to go forward and stayed on the far edge of the board with the black knight trying to console her.

When everyone had said their goodbyes, the group formed again into small half-circle rows facing the king to give him their last farewell. The chess set began a haunted and discordant choral piece.

"'Sing…'" Sing as though no one is listening. Sing to the highest heavens and rejoice.

"'Be…'" Be happy. Be yourself. Be learning. Be loving.

"'Live…'" Live everyday like your last, for no one knows what tomorrow may bring.

"'See…'" See through the fog and mire that block your path. See the good in people, the good in the world, and the good in yourself, for it's always there.

"'This dark stormy hour, the wind, it stirs. The scorched Earth cries out in vain.'"

Hermione and Severus stood behind the set with arms around each other, taking in the scorched earth that showed where good and evil had been tried and where good had finally been triumphant. This place would now always be sacred ground, but still, the faint whispers of sickly green light could be seen in the early evening's twilight.

"'Oh war and power, you blind and blur. The torn heart cries out in pain.'"

For, just like the majority of the world now, their family would be one member short, and no matter what came to pass, he could never truly be replaced. To be taken while fighting a battle that had not been his…he was truly a sacrifice. A sacrifice like Hermione's family.

"'But music and singing have been my refuge, and music and singing shall be my light.'" The chess set sang with quiet confidence in their little circle. They had been taught well by their mistress after the many nights they had consoled her over Ron being with Lavender, over her parents, the breakup with Ron, and the fights with Severus.

"'A light of song, shining strong. Hallelujah! Hallelujah.'" Their song swelled in volume before ending with the almost reverent "Hallelujah." They would persevere – together. The dawn always followed the night.

"'Through darkness and pain and strife, I'll sing, I'll be, I'll live, see.'"

They all came forward to lay a hand on the fallen body of the king.

"'Peace.'"

Hermione waited until they had retreated and then slowly picked up the pieces of the king and put them back into the small velvet bag that would serve as his coffin. The set watched as she gently laid them beside the remains of Albus, and the tomb was closed.

"I have one more thing I'd like to do today," said Hermione. "And then all the weight will be off my heart."

~~HGSS~~

Dinner with the Weasleys was a loud and chaotic affair even at the best of times. With the addition of spouses, significant others, Severus, and Hermione, it was a barely controlled circus. A few curious glances were cast in the professor's direction. Even as a member of the Order, he had never usually stayed for meals. Since Easter, it was the most they had ever seen him. It wasn't a malicious stare, but it was still a bit unsettled at seeing one's typically formal and foreboding professor looking relaxed and casual…mostly. He was still wearing his jacket.

Inevitably, however, the food was put on the table, plates were filled, and the conversation slowed to a trickle.

"So," said Arthur, "how was your first week teaching?"

Hermione relayed the events of the week and how everyone knew she was with Severus. "But of course, they never say anything to him!"

Severus just smirked shyly and pondered the fascinating event that was him sitting at the dinner table with the Weasleys and his – girlfriend – and this being an acceptable occurrence.

It was a wonder how things could change in a year.

The group chatted aimlessly while Hermione kept giving him sidelong glances. When dessert was almost finished and Hermione still hadn't said anything, Severus took matters into his own hands. Clearing his throat and with his best "pay attention" voice, he announced, "Everyone, Hermione has an announcement she would like to share with you."

"Severus!" Hermione practically squealed.

"Well, it was clear you were unsure how to begin. That matter has been resolved."

With a heavy sigh, and before Molly could ask if she was pregnant, Hermione spoke up. "Well, it came to my awareness a few months ago that I actually do have some relations outside of my parents, and they even live in England."

"That's wonderful, Hermione!" said Arthur. "You'll have to ring them on the felly-tone, and we'll have them around for supper."

"Actually," she said hesitantly, "you already have."

"We have?" asked Molly. "They're magical then? Are you not a Muggle-born after all?"

"Are they in the Order?" asked Ginny.

"Do we know him?" asked Fred.

"Or her," added George with a sly wink toward his brother.

After looking at Severus and him pushing her on, Hermione continued. "My father, Harold Granger, was born in Australia. He was the illegitimate son of his father, and he was raised by an aunt and uncle. Igantius Prewett and Lucretia Black. Molly," she said with a quivering voice, "you're my father's cousin. Ron, Ginny, everyone, we're second cousins."

"I think I'm gonna be sick," said Ron, face tinged green as he bolted from the room with Lorrell close behind.

Ginny squealed about having Hermione as family while the other boys sat in shock and Molly came around the table for a hug.

"Well, of course you are!" exclaimed Molly. "Stand up! Let me get a proper look at you!" She let out an exasperated sigh. "My goodness. My poor Uncle Percy was your granddad then? That must be where you got the musical talent from. You have his hair alright. And his hands. He always had such beautiful hands. Lucretia was Sirius's aunt, you know. He would have been a cousin, once removed by marriage."

Hermione was shaking her head. "That is so weird."

"Welcome to the wizarding world, Hermione," said Arthur.

"So I've heard."

The family chatted long into the night, telling stories about their relatives. Molly remembered her Uncle Percy very fondly, even if he had been a bit odd, and she had known her cousin Harold, but not as well.

"Gosh, I probably hadn't seen him in thirty years! Not since Ignatius died. I never realized he wasn't really their son."

"No, that's probably why he didn't recognize you when you all met. And, of course, your name changed, and he didn't know about the family being magical. Since his dad was a Squib, and he didn't show any magic either, they never told him."

"Oh, so it still must have been such a shock to him! But I'm so glad you found out about us! Tell me again how it happened."

Eventually Ron returned, having come to terms with things as Hermione had. Perhaps he would be more cautious with Lorrell. She knew that Lorrell had low confidence in herself sometimes, and though she knew they loved each other now, she couldn't help but wonder if, at the beginning, she had been talked into anything more than she was comfortable with for the sake of feeling wanted. Hermione would be thankful to her dying day that she had not given in to that temptation.

After talking late into the night, even Severus joining in on occasion, all the students, the lone professor, and the pseudo-professor, bid their goodbyes. The hugs were plentiful between everyone but Hermione and Ron. That was still just a little awkward. He was silent as they returned to the castle, but Ginny was noisy enough for both of them.

After returning to the castle, Hermione gave them a wave as she headed down the stairs, listening to Lorrell telling Ginny that she never slept in her room anymore and hearing Ginny's corresponding, "Ooooh."

~~HGSS~~

They were here.

For all the preparation, and discussion, and warnings, it still hadn't seemed like they would ever actually be here.

And yet, here they were.

It was time for N.E.W.T.s.

It was evident which students had prepared versus the students who hadn't. Some – Draco, Hannah, Ernie, Ron – were feeling fairly confident that they knew what they were going to receive. Others, such as Lorrell, Susan, Pansy, and Harry, were a bit more nervous.

Like they would ever fail Harry Potter.

And then there was Hermione, the most frantic of them all, even though her brain was a sponge and she had likely studied more than any three of the students combined.

The tests were spread out over four days, with Friday off and then graduation that Saturday. One did not have to pass the tests to graduate. They just had to perform well in their courses. The tests themselves were special certifications, opening up jobs and giving prestige. Hermione had already been informed that she was valedictorian of the class and would be expected to speak at the ceremony.

Charms, Transfiguration, Potions, Arithmancy, Ancient Runes…so many classes she had to take, but she felt fairly confident in all of them.

Right? She did completely remember all the branches of Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration, right?

She thought a moment.

Yes, she would be fine.

Practical exams followed written ones if the class needed one. Hermione was sitting ten tests, only leaving out Divination for obvious reasons, and so she had two tests on two days and three on Monday and Tuesday.

Hermione prepared herself as best she could, but she still found during the week that she would be standing in front of the bath tub, naked, reciting the constellations or the runic alphabet, when Severus would have to come and toss her in. Or she would stare at her English muffin at breakfast with a scowl on her face until Harry elbowed her, reminding her to eat.

By the time the final test came and Hermione set her pencil down for the final time as a student of Hogwarts, she was ready to just go to bed. The thought of Severus's large four poster was extremely attractive, and, at this point, she didn't care if he was in it or not. In fact, she would rather prefer he wasn't, so she could just sprawl across it and not have to worry about his long limbs.

Hermione tried to be practical and realize she would most likely do just fine. Part of her, however, remembered the story of the tortoise and the hare. She couldn't slack off just because she thought she was better than the other students. There were many subjects that did not come naturally to her. Potions, for instance. Or Herbology. She performed well because she put the extra work in, not because she was simply some idiot savant.

So even though her previous scores told her she was being ridiculous by worrying, she still knew in her heart that she could always be at the bottom of the class as well as the top.

Coming back into Severus's room and seeing the scowl on his face as he looked at his pile of exams to grade, she couldn't help but quip that at least he didn't have fifth and seventh years, on top of everything else.

"And thank Merlin. Yours would have been at least as long as half of the class's combined."

She smiled, telling him she was going to soak in the tub and take a nap.

As she lay on the bed – diagonally – resting her head on the large fluffy pillows with Crookshanks at her side, she felt the bed dip as he lay beside her.

"Thank you for letting Crooks in the bedroom," Hermione said into the muffling pillows.

"You're welcome," he responded, as she was teaching him to do when he received a compliment.

"Hermione?"

"Yes, love?"

She felt the bed shift.

"You graduate on Saturday."

"I know," she sighed. "It's wonderful, and terrifying, and brilliant. I can't wait to be a professor here and have my own classroom and my own desk. It will be odd having my friends as students for a few years, but we got on alright at the end of this one, so I think I'll be fine."

"Hermione?"

"What?" she asked, becoming a little perturbed.

"Do you remember what was going to happen, but only after you were no longer a student?"

Hermione lay still a moment, thinking, before slowly, a sly, satisfied smirk grew on her face.

Seeing her face break into a grin even as it faced away from him, he repeated himself in what she said was his most seductive, gravelly voice.

"You graduate on Saturday."

And Hermione wondered what he thought of black.

Silk.

**Teaser: **"Severus? Make love to me."


	39. Chapter 38

**A/N: ** Sorry a little later than normal, my beta was out of town. Also, Ashwinder just passed 500 reviews. Congrats, Elou, winner of my review challenge, who gave my plot bunny a wonderful scenario to chew on. Look for it soon!

**Chapter Thirty Eight **

Hermione awoke Saturday morning to a voice of firm insistence.

"Hermione!"

She wanted to respond to the voice with, "No, Mum, five more minutes," but instead just groaned and grabbed her quilt.

"Hermione Granger! Arise this instant!"

At the firm command, Hermione tossed off the covers and sat up straight. "What? What is it?"

"What it is, young lady, is the morning of your last day as a student at Hogwarts, and I have something to show you if you wish to successfully partake in the rest of your day!"

Hermione looked at the clock and groaned. It was still very early, but she was not going to argue with the headmistress. "Alright, Minerva. I'm up. What do you need to show me?"

"Follow me," said the amused woman. "And don't bother trying to get dressed first." At Hermione's inquisitive look, she added, "You'll see."

Grabbing her robe around her, Hermione followed her out of the dorm room.

~~HGSS~~

When Severus woke that morning, it was with the knowledge that he was alone in his bed.

He had spent almost forty years alone in his bed. However, the five nights he had woken up with Hermione made him painfully aware of what he had missed out on.

Waking up with all of his blankets still covering him and no bushy head on his pillow and no morning breath in his face also meant that he woke up without the backside of a young witch pressed to him or the warm vanilla scent or the comfort of knowing there was someone who wished to be so intimate with his person.

In short, he was now put out.

Grumbling as he got out of bed, he opened his armoire to retrieve the robes he had to wear for graduation and scowled deeper.

All of Hermione's things were gone.

Her clothes were absent from the armoire, and as he looked around, he noted her books and her pack and even her chess set were gone.

Did she…did she finally realize what a mistake she was making?

Had it taken until now, until the cusp of her cultural adulthood, to realize she was beautiful and brilliant and bound for a man better than he?

The panic began to well up in his chest, constricting his muscles, forcing him to grab onto his desk as he heard the portrait slide open.

The witch in question came bounding through his quarters, grin wide on her face, clad still in her nightdress.

"Severus! Come see!"

He stared at her, not comprehending the scene before him.

"Come on, silly, get dressed!"

Hermione's enthusiasm finally cut through his fog as she went through his things and gathered what he needed for the day and set them on the bed.

"You're…you're not leaving?" he finally asked.

"Leaving for where? C'mon, get dressed!"

"Nevermind," he mumbled, sliding into his trousers before putting on his shirt and formal robe. Severus followed her out and up the stairs, panic replaced by curiosity at what had brought her down to his quarters at such an early hour.

Hermione lead him straight up from his own dungeon level to the fourth floor near Minerva's classroom. Down a short hallway, Hermione tapped her wand on the last door, and it slowly opened.

"Isn't it lovely?" she asked.

The heavy wooden door revealed a large, airy room. The ceilings had to be two stories high, at least, with a mural on the ceiling and a large chandelier. Large windows were set into the wall with a seat at the bottom and ended near the ceiling in an arched point with etched glass. Bookshelves ran the course of the wall, mostly with books on them already. The room was large enough that his piano sat in the center of it beneath the chandelier with a few seats nearby, and a small seating area was around the fireplace as well. Severus could see three doors off the main room leading to who knows where. To a ballroom and a large dining hall to rival the Malfoys' if this room was any indication.

He stepped lightly onto the large white brocade rug covering the middle of the floor as he crossed to admire the bookcases. He looked in a nook to see a chess table with her set on top. So this was where all her stuff had gone.

"What is this place?" Severus asked. "Did you bring your things here?"

"If I had, would I still be in my nightgown?" asked Hermione. "Minerva woke me up this morning and brought me here. It seems this room was part of the old library before it was expanded. They keep extra volumes in here, and she was looking for a Transfiguration book to give me when she noticed the doors. They lead to a study, a bedroom, and a bathroom! And she thought of them for me!"

_Why in hell have I been stuck in that _shithole? wondered Severus.

"So, of course, since the castle changes, she had the house-elves bring my things post haste because it won't change rooms that are in use. She brought me up here this morning so that I could get ready for the ceremony today. And, of course, she let me know that they are the largest staff quarters now in the castle, in case, well, you know," she said with a little nod toward him.

He just stared at her, so she clarified. "In case I'm not, well, alone," Hermione said as the heat infused her pale cheeks.

Oh. So this was the equivalent of married housing for staff.

And he was being informed he was welcome to share it with her.

"But, you don't have to, of course," she rushed on. "I'd love it if you were, but I know you like your space and probably chose those rooms for their quiet and solitude. If you don't want to be up here much, I understand, I can just-"

Severus cut her off by pulling her close. "If these rooms were not my own, I would have bookshelf envy," he said, and she could hear the rumbles from his chest. "You may have your peace for now, but I would not be averse to sharing this space with you in the future. I don't much care for the cold anyway."

"I'd like that," Hermione told him, rubbing her cheek on his robe like a kitten.

She pulled away to show him the other three rooms. A spacious bathroom with a double sink, shower, and deep bathtub like his own that he knew she would get more than her fair share of use out of, a study with another bookshelf, a large oak desk, a fireplace and an overstuffed chair, and finally, her bedroom.

A white coverlet was on the large four poster bed, with Hermione's quilt folded along the foot of it.

There seemed to be a closet as well as an armoire, space for them both if it came to that. Large windows on either side of the bed overlooked the grounds, but thankfully the ceiling in this room was not quite as high as the main room's had been, though it was still possibly fifteen feet high.

"Minerva told me about my quilt," she said. "It turns out that it actually is my quilt. Isn't that strange?"

Hermione lightly traced the pattern of the squares, and he waited patiently for her to continue. "This was the wedding ring quilt for my father's guardians, Ignatius and Lucretia. Had he stayed, they would have passed it on to him, and then to me. Strange, isn't it, the way things happen?"

She seemed momentarily melancholy, possibly wondering about what might have been if her father had survived. If he had known his family was magical or that they were related to the Weasleys.

"I'm happy I got it through you, though. It's a precious memory. It feels like that's when things began."

He nodded solemnly. It felt that way to him as well. It was the night they had unexpectedly shared together, and it was on that night that he had linked her presence to his peace of mind and begun wanting to know more about her.

"Will you meet me here?" she asked, somewhat timid.

His brow raised in question. "When?"

Her eyes met his then. "Tonight. After graduation. Will you meet me here?"

She lightly pressed on the corner of the bed covers, as though testing the firmness.

He was barely able to choke out, "I will," before making his apologies and leaving the room lest he ruin the months they had waited by ravishing her right then and there.

Hermione had watched his nostrils flare and his cheeks color when she spoke to him, and she watched him flee with a smile.

"Until tonight!" she called after him.

He paused and looked over his shoulder.

"Until tonight."

She was looking forward to it.

~~HGSS~~

"Abbot, Hannah," called Minerva McGonagall.

The students were all on a large stage in the Great Hall in front of their family, friends, and fellow students, and as their name was called, they crossed in front of a line of their professors to accept their diploma from the headmistress, get a photo taken, and return to their seat.

"Crabbe, Vincent."

Hermione knew she had a while to wait. As class valedictorian, she would be called last and asked to give a speech to the new graduates. She was supposed to tell them how well they had done, how proud they should be. How they had overcome struggles and were now prepared to handle anything life handed them.

Of course they were. They had defeated bloody Voldemort.

"Goyle, Gregory."

And sitting here was pure torture. It had to be Minerva's private to joke to sit her right behind where Severus was standing.

He was standing regally between short Professor Flitwick and an empty space on the other side of which stood dumpy Professor Sprout. His black hair shown in the candlelight, and Hermione smiled. He must have used the Muggle shampoo she gave him for oily hair after he had started giving her the magical conditioner. In all honesty, she thought she got the better end of the deal. And she loved his hair, regardless of how he kept it. That black made his eyes brilliant, and even just sitting there, her fingertips itched to run through the layers dusting the tops of his robes like they longed for her cool piano keys after a long absence.

"Greengrass, Daphne."

She knew she should be focusing on her history. Thinking about her past here in these halls as a student and the myriad of adventures that she experienced. The trial and tribulations, the tests and the triumphs. She should be reflecting on the friends she now had and the friends she lost along the way. About her new family and the family gone beyond the veil.

But how could she? The future was right here. Hermione sat there in the hall that held her friends, what family she had, her employer, her coworkers, and the man she loved.

What was it like to be one of her classmates who had no clue what their future would hold? It was true no one knew for certain, as this past year had made exceedingly clear, but many of them were going into a world where they didn't even know what they wanted to do with the rest of their lives. She was lucky, as was Harry and a handful of others. Neville and Luna had bought what they needed for their trip. Harry had been accepted as an Auror, circumventing the typical training, and they agreed to allow him to reside at the castle with Ginny. Ron, however, was fairly clueless, as was Lorrell.

"Malfoy, Draco."

Both of Draco's parents were in attendance. Lucius had been allowed to attend, as he was a very low flight risk since he couldn't Apparate. He had a tracking spell on him that could only be removed by the caster. Although they were there in support of their son, Hermione knew Draco had spent many hours with Severus behind closed doors after the battle. She knew what Draco needed and why he had been coming there. He was looking for a father figure, and for the first time in his life, he was free to seek Severus in the open. There were times when she would be in the living room, and she would hear the sobs from his office, as well as Severus's deep, soothing voice. Draco was always polite to Hermione, almost shy at times, as though expecting her to exact revenge on him at any time. The last time he left, she gave him a hug as big as any she had given to Harry or Ron. The blonde boy gave her a small smile.

She had a feeling they would be seeing much more of Draco.

They. Them. Us. Our. We.

Hermione regarded the tall man in front of her, eyes taking in his form at leisure. The robe accentuated his broad shoulders and strong back. Underneath, she knew the curve of his rear, the arch of his spine, the dip of his waist. Things known only to her. Secret knowledge only she possessed. And Hermione was eager to learn more.

"Potter, Harry."

Severus rolled his eyes as the crowd gave a long, hefty cheer.

The boy with the messy hair and piercing green eyes came around the end of the professors, thanking each one as he moved down the line and pausing with a small bow over the spot where Professor Miller would have stood. As he stepped in front of Snape, he held out his hand.

The professor paused for a moment before grasping it with his own and giving it a shake.

Somewhere, Albus was rolling in his grave.

"Thank you, sir. For everything. And for helping us, and well, you know." The boy looked past him just slightly.

"You're welcome, Po-Harry. Go graduate, and be out of my sight."

Harry smiled his rakish grin. "Yes, sir."

The boy was an enigma. Not his father, not his mother, and yet both. His father's hair, his mother's eyes, as well as his father's charm and his mother's sense of justice. But he had neither of the characteristics of theirs that had so defined his opinion of them.

Harry was not a prankster or a bully. He didn't abandon his friends or taunt them. Harry Potter was his own person, and he was now treating Severus with respect.

He supposed he should do the same. It was, after all, his own fault that Harry didn't care for him in the first place.

"Weasley, Ronald."

Goodbye, Mister Weasley.

He really didn't have anything more to say.

Severus could remember well the day that he graduated. A few smiles from his professors, the rolled-up, gilded parchment, a pat on the back from Headmaster Dumbledore. But no family and no one he still considered a friend.

Today was so different from that one. Each student here, he believed, had someone in the audience to cheer for them as they crossed the platform. And he himself was a different man. A very different man.

As such, when the last name was called from the register, he allowed himself to do, in public, something he didn't think he had ever done before.

"Granger, Hermione – Valedictorian."

Professor Severus Snape clapped along with the other professors.

And he smiled broadly as she crossed in front of him, causing her steps to falter. He even went so far as to say, "Good job, Hermione," causing the grins of the people around him to falter for a moment as well, as neither knew of their affiliation.

"Thank you," she said cheerfully as she came down the row, shaking hands and hugging a few of her professors, including little Flitwick.

After Severus greeted her, she reached up and hugged him as well, raising an audible gasp from the audience when he hugged her back.

"Better prepare them now," she whispered as she continued down the row, ending in an enthusiastic hug from McGonagall.

Hermione started her speech while everyone listened attentively. She kept it short, even admitting in her speech that her classmates had probably heard enough of her words throughout their time at the school. Praising them all for accomplishing more during their school career than most people do during their entire lives, she said real life might actually be anticlimactic, to which they chuckled.

She gave all the normal clichés, then stepped down from the stage. She knew that a speech is rarely remembered, and regardless of what she said, she would be known as Kia, the friend of Harry Potter, and a hero of the Battle of Hogwarts, unless she ran up there naked, which was not about to happen.

McGonagall gave a speech as well, thanking the graduates for their contribution to the school, and she spoke briefly about the battle.

"As one other announcement, we knew at the beginning of the year that we would need a replacement Transfiguration professor for the following term, and the passing of Professor Miller makes it inevitable. For the past year, we have been training the new teacher from within our own student body."

The students were all curiously looking around. They knew Hermione had been in their classes, but they had just assumed it was for an extra credit project.

"The new Transfiguration professor will be Miss Hermione Granger."

Hermione stood and gave a little wave. As she went to sit, however, Minerva motioned her forward, and she took the empty place at Severus's side.

"Awkward," she whispered.

"For certain," he whispered back as Sprout eyed the young witch by her side.

~~HGSS~~

The large feast afterward was boisterous, even without the added friends and family.

"I heard, Hermione!" said Molly. "About your quilt! That's wonderful that it found you again. Some things truly are magical." She gave her a wink and then continued to tell Lorrell more about the rest of the family. Charlie and Katie were nowhere to be found, and Hermione hoped there wasn't another young couple about to elope.

She and Severus remained apart for the majority of the evening, as their relationship was not currently public knowledge, only speculated upon, by, well, everyone.

However, even though she was talking to someone from the Daily Prophet and Severus was standing in a group of staff members, their eyes constantly flicked to each other. No matter where they moved or who they were speaking with – or not speaking with, in Severus's case – they were aware of the presence of the other and always kept them in their field of vision.

"Just go," whispered Harry.

Hermione looked at him, startled. "What?"

"I'll tell everyone you've got a headache or something. You've had quite the day, people will believe it. It's obvious you two are up to something. Just go."

Hermione brightened at her knight in shining glasses. "I can't say you've never done anything nice for me, Harry Potter." She gave him a swift kiss on the cheek, not seeing the narrowing of Snape's eyes from across the room, and swiftly swept from the Great Hall.

~~HGSS~~

Five minutes passed.

Then ten.

After fifteen, Hermione grew anxious when Severus never appeared.

Had he backed out? Did he not want to sleep with her tonight? They hadn't spoken of it much, but they had been intimate with each other, and he seemed to be anticipating it when he had brought it up before. Perhaps he didn't realize she was waiting for him, which was a very Severus thing to do.

Using her Galleon, she questioned him:

_Coming?_

A response was never returned, but in less than five minutes, a gasping Severus appeared in her doorway, a slight sheen of perspiration on his forehead from the exertion. It appeared he had run halfway across the castle and up five flights of stairs.

Hermione was pleased that she'd anticipated his arrival and had had a few minutes to freshen herself. She was leaning against the pillows on her bed with the black babydoll nightgown on. The silky black top accentuated her small, pale breasts, and the sheer gauzy skirt barely covered her bum and was transparent enough that the matching thong she wore was visible as well.

Dreadfully nervous, she slowly leaned forward until she sat on the bed on her knees while he caught his breath, leaning against the doorframe.

"Did you…did you still want to do this?" she asked hesitantly.

"Definitely."

He took a step toward her and stopped to toss off the formal robe he wore over his usual attire. As he fiddled with the buttons, he heard her ask him to come to her.

Stepping forward, his hands dropped to his sides as she took over the task of undressing him. Her fingers shook as layer after layer came off, until he was as undressed as she, in only his undergarments.

Severus reached out to gently touch her, unsure of his movements when both were aware that tonight would be different. Tonight would be a milestone, a cornerstone, a touchstone of their relationship. She leaned forward on the bed to press her lips to his where she could taste the traces of champagne.

Hermione reached down to rub her hand against that which was hot and insistent against her thigh.

Severus gently fingered the material of her gown. "You look lovely. I hope I didn't disappoint with my formal attire. I'm afraid it's required, and I wouldn't have known what to wear otherwise."

"You are attractive to me in whatever you wear. I, however, wanted to make this an occasion. To please you. And a girl needs to start building a trousseau, according to my mother."

At his startled look, she added, "For whenever."

"Well, I am very pleased," he purred.

With her hands on his hips, she pulled him closer. "Good. Now let's get this off you."

He fumbled as he quickly took off his boxers and helped her take off her gown as well. Severus's fingers traced down her body, from her collar to the black lace of her thong.

"This is very nice," he said, somewhat shyly.

Hermione leaned back on the bed. "I'm glad you like it. Take it off me?"

It was his turn to display shaky hands as the black slid down her creamy white thighs and off her delicate little feet.

After a moment, Hermione's voice broke the silence. "Severus?"

"Hmm?"

"I think you need to join me in order for this to work right."

Sheepishly, he joined her on the bed, lying next to her.

Hermione reached out and almost touched his face before grabbing his head and pulling him into a fierce kiss. If he had been uncertain if she wanted him before, he was not uncertain now. She took his free hand and placed it on her stomach to let it wander where it would as she nibbled on his lips and thrust her hands into his hair.

He ran a hand over her smooth stomach, lightly circled her belly button and brushed along her sides. Her nervousness and excitement could be felt in the slight tremble of her muscles beneath the skin. Knowing she felt the same as he, Severus's hand cupped her little mound fully, and a finger slipped inside to find the hot center. He couldn't believe how wet she was already, and the prospect of her desire for him shook him.

He lay half resting on her on the bed, and he leaned on his elbows to look over her.

"Hermione, I-"

"Shush, I know," she said, placing a fingertip on his lips. "It's a lot to take in. But I'm ready, if you are. I'm on the potion now too."

"It's just…no one has ever wanted me this way before," he confided in her, looking away. Even for all their intimacies, he still felt woefully out of his depth, and he was terrified of making a fool of himself or not pleasing her. One could only have one first time, and this was their first together, as well as their first, period.

It certainly wasn't that Severus had grown up as a paragon of morality. But when he had been a student within these halls, he had not been the most desirable person around. That didn't much change after graduation. It was never just his appearance, but his antisocial persona that had kept him quite single. Self respect, however, he did still have, and added to that the fact that he was a spy for the Dark and the Light, it meant that whorehouses and casual flings weren't in the cards either. But as such a solitary man, it had never much mattered until he was confronted with such a nubile, and currently naked, wanton witch.

He was pleased that this was to be his first. Fate was smiling.

"That's because it's impossible for anyone to want you as much as I do right now," Hermione said in a breathy voice that reminded him of how attracted he was to her. He would be a fool not to be.

As he settled himself again, another thought occurred to him. "I haven't done this, well, ever. Any expectations you may have, given that I'm, you know…"

"One of the most powerful wizards alive?" she asked with a smirk.

"Yes," he answered. "And I'd like to point out that according to the _Daily Prophet_, there have been no formal duels to determine-"

"Severus?"

"Yes?"

"Shut up and come here."

He eagerly kissed her again, marveling that he could do so whenever he wished. She started to slide underneath him more and place her legs outside his when she felt him tense.

"What is it? Was there a different way you wanted to try for the first time?"

If she didn't have such a keen mind.

"I should think I would prefer you on top, if you don't mind."

"I don't think I do," she said, smiling. "I'll tell you in a few minutes."

Severus lay on his back, his head on the fluffy white pillows, his long hair making a sharp contrast.

Hermione straddled him and looked down from her high position. "Why did you want to try this way?"

He hesitated before forcing himself to be rid of the temptation to hide from her. Severus was currently naked, wandless, and beneath her. She was apparently trustworthy.

"I wish for this to be completely your decision," he said honestly. "I am willing, as you know. But I want you to be free to change your mind at any time. I…"

"Go on," she said encouragingly, rubbing his chest with her palms.

"I want you to initiate it. When I first penetrate you, I want it to be because you began, not I."

Hermione gave him another of her looks. Such clinical language could only be a turn on from him. She thought of his past experiences. He was not his father, but she still wanted him to be able to be more forward in their relationship. "And then next time, will you be the first?"

"If you wish it so."

"Alright then."

Reaching down, he felt her grasp him gently and run the head of his shaft through her wetness, coating him completely. She rubbed his head against her a few times, and he felt her grind against him as he tried to concentrate on not ending the show before it began.

Suddenly, she asked him, "Are you ready?"

He nodded, and she slowly sank down.

She grimaced at the feeling of being stretched, even though it felt so wonderfully _right_. His hands were on her hips as she felt them grip her almost painfully, and he had to restrain himself from not just thrusting into her.

However, that was what she wanted.

Feeling the resistance of her hymen, she stopped her descent and leaned over, whispering in his ear, "Severus? Make love to me."

She had fulfilled her promise of making the first move and was now rewarded with his hips pressing up to hers, piercing through the thin membrane until he was fully sheathed. The burning sensation was offset by the pleasure at feeling his strength and warmth within her, and by the look of uncomprehending bliss on his face.

They never spoke a word, just trying to find the right rhythm in the pale moonlight that came in from her windows. Hermione rode him, picking up the pace, feeling herself adjust as she slid all the way down to the base of his cock, and she heard him whisper a soft epithet.

With his hands on her once again, he slowly pulled her down until his lips caught hers, and he softly kissed her. She lay completely on his stomach now, and she spread her legs and hooked them around his so that he could slide into her.

The anticipation of having him inside her was doing a number on Hermione. She was certain that almost anything he did tonight was going to feel wonderful, since her anticipation had so heightened her arousal. However, if he wanted to kiss…

Hermione slowly leaned over until she was on her side, then pulled him on top of her.

"I want to try this," she whispered.

Severus's weight settled on her chest, and she felt him find his path again as she braced her legs around his hips. Once he was confident, he pushed forward with a gasp.

"This doesn't hurt you?" he asked, pupils dilated and cheeks flushed.

"Not now. God, Severus, this feels wonderful." Pulling him down for a kiss, Hermione felt him begin to move, a bit clumsy at first in his rhythm until he learned how far he could move either way. Deepening the kiss with her, one hand massaged her breast as his pace quickened.

With her on her back, he could push deeper, and if he tilted his hips, he could feel her grow even tighter – Merlin, how was that even _possible_ – as he passed over the area inside her that caused her to mewl and dig her fingernails into his back.

Hermione's feet pressed against the taut muscles of his bum, wanting to feel as much as she could of his skin against hers. She felt the sticky sweat between them and noticed his lank hair clinging to his pale cheeks. As he bent down to kiss her again, she was surprised to realize that Severus Snape loved to kiss during sex.

Well, that was fine.

He was suckling on her neck when he heard her gasp, "I'm close!"

"Should I…what should I do?"

Hermione let out a short bark of laughter. "Well, keeping on with that is just fine! Faster feels good too."

Severus sat back, admiring the beautiful witch who was currently writhing beneath him. "Gods, you're beautiful."

"Thank you, handsome. Now are you going to finish this?"

With a smirk, he watched his length disappear into her as his pace increased, feeling his testicles constrict with the pleasure of her moist and warm tightness around him. "I'm close as well. Should I just…?"

"Yes. Yes, Severus. I want you to come inside me."

Her words were all he needed, and she felt him stiffen and his cock jerk inside her, spilling over. In truth, it was only his physical training that had allowed him this much stamina. Hermione clutched onto him as her own orgasm came, whispering his name into the semidarkness as her muscles clenched around him and his movements slowed to a stop.

As they lay there in the post-coital, languid fog, Hermione smiled and reached over to brush a lock of hair from his face. She felt tired and a bit sore and sticky. She wasn't going to be a woman who felt the need to chat after climax.

He grinned back and told her, "Happy graduation."

"Best present ever," she said back. "And you should thank Harry. He's the one who made my escape possible."

"I always knew he would serve a purpose."

Her laugh rang through the room, and shortly, his joined her, marking the first time she had ever heard him bellow loudly. Possibly the first time he even had.

"You realize you're stuck with me now?"

"I'll manage," she said.

Thinking about her life as they lay there together intertwined, she couldn't think of anything she'd like to change.

Her liminal period of the last year was finally at an end.

**Teaser:** The white cloth ran down the center of the aisle as guests came to take their seats.

**A/N:** I consider this to the bed 'end' of the story, which then has two epilogues of a sort.


	40. Chapter 39

**A/N: **Sorry it's a bit late. I have no one to blame but myself. It's been a crazy (but good) week. Hope you all enjoy the epilogue, part one. And in my apologies, if we hear if we get to close on our house this week, I'll post the last chapter early. Last two chances to see if we make 1,000.

**Playlist: **Okay, I can also blame Windows Live Movie Maker for the delay. Some videos I had to upload three times and then Youtube doesn't like half of them. Some of these have duplicates. Mine, and one I found for the countries that can't see mine. Sorry about the inconvenience.

www .youtube .com/view_play_list?p=BDE746ACAB63CE69

**Chapter Thirty Nine**

Hermione and Severus literally stopped to smell the roses. White, pink, red, yellow. Large and small fragrant blossoms were everywhere in the large yard behind the Burrow. White chairs were lined up in rows leading to a trellis in front of the garden, which had been freshly de-gnomed, courtesy of Fred and George.

The warm June day would have been a perfect opportunity to lie under a tree with a book if it weren't for the wedding of Harry Potter and Ginevra Weasley.

At least three hundred people milled about the property, and no expense had been spared.

Of course, if you were Harry Potter, no expense would need to be. The Ministry covered much of the cost of the wedding in return for allowing some of their people to be present, and what they didn't cover, Harry was more than happy to. The Weasleys had much of Hermione's gift as well, but Harry insisted they keep it.

The white cloth ran down the center of the aisle as guests came to take their seats. Hermione clutched Severus's arm closely. She knew he wasn't overly fond of weddings, but she also knew that they needed to make their grand entrance in society somehow, and this would get everyone covered at once. Plus, Harry reasoned if they stole the show at the wedding, perhaps the press would leave him and Ginny alone for a few days.

Much clamor had been raised after it had become common knowledge that Harry and Ginny had eloped before the battle at the school. Privately, Scrimgeour thanked Harry for not causing a public panic. A few people were critical of them marrying so young, but the majority of the wizarding world was behind it completely. It gave people hope to celebrate their marriage, and so many wizards and witches married young that it wasn't out of the norm like it would have been in the Muggle culture.

Molly had an absolute field day with the bottomless budget for the wedding of her only girl, her baby, and the Savior of the Wizarding World. Flying cupids were handing out roses and scattering glitter and confetti over people as they passed. The punch fountain changed colors, and every so often, sparks would fly out the top. The cake was huge, physically impossible, and had a Groom Harry and a Bride Ginny waving to guests from the top.

Hermione walked Severus to his seat, listening to the gasps of the wedding guests as they goggled at the unusual couple. Nearly everyone they knew was in attendance. Ministry officials, the staff of Hogwarts, their friends, family of their friends, friends of the Weasleys, reporters. It was like the victory celebration all over again. Now that the Order was aware of Severus and Hermione, and Hermione had been promoted to staff member at her graduation, they had decided, with Harry and Ginny's consent, to come to the wedding as a couple.

They knew they would hear criticism, much more than Harry and Ginny. But they had friends who would stand by them, even Severus, and so their appearance was just to get the scandal over with now so that it didn't interrupt the start of term.

"Excuse me, Miss, is this man giving you any trouble?" asked a portly gentlemen as Hermione guided Severus down the path.

"No, it's typically the other way around," she smartly replied and moved along. Directing him on where to sit, she told him she would see him after the ceremony and waved to Draco, dressed all in black, who was seated by the professor, without his parents.

Hermione has heard that things were abnormally difficult at present in the Malfoy home. Lucius couldn't bear the thought of Muggle conveniences sullying his precious manor, nor could he perform magic. He currently had a house-elf who followed him around to perform basic magic as needed. This solution was arranged after the man had spent several proud hours in a completely dark home after his family had gone out, leaving him with no way to illuminate the candles. When the story became public, it appeared certain that the face of the elder Malfoy would not be seen for some time.

Harry and Ginny's wedding party was small. Hermione would serve as the maid of honor and Ron as the best man. Lorrell and Fleur would stand with Ginny and Remus and Charlie would stand with Harry. He had hoped Neville would be there, but his and Luna's safari had been booked long before impulsive Harry had set a date for the wedding. The happy couple promised to send the newlyweds something special from a foreign country.

Hermione went back into the house until it was time for the wedding. Lorrell was looking at her carnation pink dress in disgust. "I hate pink," she told Ginny. "But I'll do it for you. But I really do hate pink."

The dresses were tasteful in Hermione's opinion. Much better than she had expected. Perhaps even Madam Malkin was limited on how quickly she could make three dresses of a bizarre nature. The gathered bodice of rosy pink was connected by a satin ribbon around the waist to a knee-length, carnation pink, gauzy skirt that made Hermione feel like a fairy or nymph.

Severus had already informed her that she would be keeping the dress…for other things.

Apparently, he had a forest nymph fantasy, and it was going to star Hermione. (In return, he agreed to wear his teaching robes).

Soon, the men and women were in line and walking down the aisle before the large crowd to meet Harry at the end, who was nervously wringing his hands. Hermione's small chess set had been set out to play, with a _Sonorus_ cast over them so that the whole crowd could hear. For the processional, the couples came slowly down the aisle, pair by pair, to Beethoven's "Piano Concerto No. 5." The slow and reverent melody spread over the crowd, mingling with the sunshine and roses.

Fleur and Remus went first. The dress, of course, looked better on Fleur than it would on anyone, and fresh robes had been purchased for poor Remus, who wore them well. They parted in front of the trellis as Fleur hung on to her small bouquet of freshly picked flowers from Molly's garden.

The piano joined the tune as Lorrell and Charlie started down the long path. Lorrell was obviously nervous. Some of the guests she knew on a first name basis, a few a bit more intimately, but by and large the only time she had seen a large gathering of the British magical community was the celebration and graduation.

Of course, she had been present for the large gathering at the battle too, but many of them she wouldn't be seeing again.

Charlie appeared serene as he gently guided Lorrell, who was craning her neck to look at the crowd. She was shocked at the people in attendance, including Draco Malfoy and the Minister of Magic himself! She wished she had worn more eyeliner.

The music swelled as Ron unsteadily took Hermione's arm to follow his brother and girlfriend.

"This is just wrong," whispered Ron.

Hermione looked at him while trying to keep her footing in the grass. "Why?"

"Because! You're…like my cousin now."

Rolling her eyes, she replied, "So take my arm as you would your cousin's. We always knew we were better friends anyway, and now we know why."

"Right. Friends. Cousins. I can do this," said Ron. "And Snape, eh, he's going to be alright with this?"

"Perfectly. He knows how I feel. Now watch your step before you trip and fall and make us both look like fools."

"Right."

Hermione forced a smile that quickly became genuine as she thought of the happy day for her friends. Young as they were, it felt like they had been together much longer than they actually had and had been dancing around each other for years before that. She knew Harry was very committed to Ginny, and the young couple had a great set of role models in Ginny's parents.

She couldn't help but wonder, though, if someday she would be at her own wedding and if it would be Severus greeting her at the end of the aisle.

Her smile grew larger as she caught sight of him turned to face her while she walked to the front of the crowd. For the life of her, she could not see him outdoors, barefoot, and surrounded by girls in frilly pink dressed and bunches of roses.

And honestly, she didn't know if he wanted to get married at all, but she hoped he did.

Ron released her nervously, straightened the front of his robes, and took his place in the front of the row, and Hermione did the same on her side.

The song changed as the black queen stepped forward to sing. The song was a country song that Ginny would have never heard if it hadn't been for Lorrell and her American family, who had suggested it when Ginny was desperately looking for a song. It wasn't a wizarding tradition to have much music in a ceremony, but she knew Harry had grown up as a Muggle, and many Muggle-borns would be in attendance. And she just liked the idea.

"'When darkness falls upon your heart and soul, I'll be the light that shines for you. When you forget how beautiful you are, I'll be there to remind you. When you can't find your way, I'll find my way to you. When troubles come around, I will come to you.'"

Ginny's hair was swept up off her neck and magically held in a French twist adorned with jewels and baby's breath. Her dress was simple and elegant, with a small train, clean lines, and a small beaded empire waist. A string of pearls graced her neck, the same strand her mother had worn at her elopement with her father.

Casting a glance at her friend, Harry beamed when he saw his bride. Even though they were technically married, she knew they didn't consider it real until the ceremony, even sleeping in separate rooms until tonight.

Hermione felt herself begin to tear up as Arthur gave Ginny's hand to Harry, tearing up a bit himself.

"Be good to her, son," Arthur told him and went to join his furiously sobbing wife in the front row, crying about how her little girl was going to be married at only sixteen, and Ginny whispered back that she would be seventeen in just over a month.

The two exchanged vows and rings in front of a Ministry officiate. Harry then lifted the veil and kissed his bride while the bulbs on the magical cameras exploded madly.

As Hermione stood there smiling for the couple and the crowd, she realized that three of the guests were absent.

The Dursleys had not come to the wedding of their nephew.

That made Hermione sad, sadder than she thought it should have, but it seemed like it was a shift. There wasn't going to be any reconciliation with the only family the boy had left. He was a Weasley now, just as she was.

It did, however, brighten her mood when she pondered if that meant Harry should take Ginny's name instead of the other way around. Hermione didn't think Harry would appreciate that suggestion.

No, Ginny was now very happily Ginevra Molly Potter, and the hearts of young – and some not so young – witches could be heard breaking.

Even Hermione had received her fair share of love letters, and a bit of hate mail, since the end of Voldemort. Older wizards, and mothers of younger wizards, had written her to inquire about her availability, listing to her all the reasons why she should choose a certain wizard.

Or a certain witch. She'd had a few of those letters too.

The letters that Severus had received contained messages known only to the writers. To Hermione's dismay, they met the fire as soon as they arrived.

"If they didn't care to correspond with me before, I don't care to correspond with them now," he reasoned, and she had no response.

With his mail, Hermione also learned that Howlers burn green.

The short wedding concluded, and the guests gathered around for the traditional cake cutting and garter and bouquet toss.

The unwed females gathered around Ginny in an attempt to catch the bouquet, with Hermione slightly off to the side. As soon as the flowers were released, the spirit of competition kicked in for her, and she dove in with the other women. Lorrell, the dates of Fred and George, Katie, and others all vied to see who would receive it.

When the dust settled and the yelling and giggling quieted, Hermione was helped to her feet, grinning from ear to ear as she held the bouquet. She walked up to Severus, standing apart from the crowd, as he shook his head at her glee over her triumph.

Members of the curious crowd watched in fascination as she handed him the bouquet of flowers. Flowers! And he took them! Severus Snape stood there silently holding the flowers while the young witch at his side used him for support to remove her extremely ill-fitting shoes. She then took his cup of punch, took a drink, and gave it back before once again taking the bouquet.

The crowd was enthralled.

It was Harry's turn next, and a very large group of eligible bachelors stood behind Harry, ready to catch the small garter he removed from the leg of his bride. Most of the Weasleys, the Order, a few students, some Ministry workers, even a reporter from the Daily Prophet, and Kingsley Shacklebolt were waiting for the toss.

Severus, of course, was not keen to participate, and Hermione didn't even mention it. The fact that he was present and had not yet hexed someone with red hair or made an adult wizard cry was enough. Instead, she watched the ensuing melee while standing beside her wizard.

As Hermione expected, Fred and George could not go through the entire evening without some sort of event. As soon as the lace and bow were about to leave Harry's fingers, a spell hit him from behind. Hermione wondered if it was an Accio gone wrong, as Harry was quickly pulled into the crowd of bachelors and the garter flew into the air. Spells were shot left and right to try and bring it down, but it eventually landed with a splash.

Severus wiped his face and then took the offending white undergarment out of his punch. Hermione positively crowed with laughter at the look of disgust on his face.

"Well, you have to admit, it's kind of funny," she told him.

Severus held up the garter and answered testily, "I have to admit no such thing. What am I supposed to do with this bloody thing?"

"The people who catch the bouquet and garter are supposed to be the next ones to get married," she told him, still chuckling, and he gave her a quizzical look. "Most people keep it as a memento. I'm sure you can give it back, or burn it. Or I can wear it," she told him, her voice a little lower.

He looked at the scrap of fabric, magicked it clean, and stuck it in his pocket.

They had their dinner and ritual slice of cake, which was very good in Hermione's opinion. Even Severus had a second slice when he thought no one was looking.

The dancing began, and the day grew darker, with the sunset over the trees and the moon hanging low in the sky. Fireflies flitted through the flowers and ferns as friends and family gathered on the dance floor.

Severus looked at Hermione, still in her flowing dress, lightly swaying in time to the music. Inspired, he offered her a hand. "Dance with me?"

"I'd love to," she said softly, taking his hand and letting him lead her onto the floor.

A guitar played quietly as Severus pulled her close. He didn't care that people were watching them, as if waiting for him to make a misstep. He didn't care that cameras were flashing or that witches were whispering. The only thing that mattered was the head on his chest, and the arms around his waist, and the soft voice singing along with the song as they swayed around the floor.

"'It's amazing how you can speak right to my heart. Without saying a word, you can light up the dark. Try as I may I could never explain what I hear when you don't say a thing.'"

Hermione listened to the music. This song fit her and Severus in so many ways.

She wondered what the crowd was thinking, seeing her here with her old professor. Stoic and stern Professor Snape, with the bossy bookworm, Hermione Granger. It was going to be a very large front page tomorrow.

"'The smile on your face lets me know that you need me. There's a truth in your eyes sayin' you'll never leave me. The touch of your hand says you'll catch me if ever I fall. You say it best when you say nothing at all.'"

The song caused Hermione to reminisce about how exactly they had come to be here. Sometimes, she had to remind herself that not everyone knew him the way she did. In fact, most people didn't want to know him at all. Of course, opinions were as fickle as the weather, and many claimed to have always trusted him now that the war was over. But Hermione knew better. She remembered last summer when he had been ostracized. She remembered when he had been injured and the only ones to visit were herself and Minerva.

"'All day long I can hear people talking out loud, but when you hold me near, you drown out the crowd. Old Mr. Webster could never define what's being said between your heart and mine.'"

He squeezed her closer, communicating what he still found hard to say. Hermione had grown up with the words spoken frequently, but she found he spoke them all the time. It just wasn't verbally. But it was there, if you knew how to listen.

How many things had he tried to say before, but no one knew how to listen?

"'The smile on your face lets me know that you need me. There's a truth in your eyes sayin' you'll never leave me. The touch of your hand says you'll catch me if ever I fall. You say it best when you say nothing at all.'"

Hermione looked up at her dance partner. "Severus?"

"Hmm?" He looked down at her with half-lidded eyes, enjoying the moment of not having to hide a single thing.

"I love you."

"And I, you," he responded.

"You better," she said, and he smirked.

"'The smile on your face lets me know that you need me. There's a truth in your eyes sayin' you'll never leave me. The touch of your hand says you'll catch me if ever I fall. You say it best when you say nothing at all.'"

The song came to a close, guitar and drums fading away, and a few people started to leave the floor.

Severus tilted his head and asked Hermione, "Walk with me?"

She grabbed his hand again and then moved to take a stroll though the flora and fauna.

Walking through the cool night air, the laughter and chatter of the guests faded away until it was just a cacophony in the background. The ground was still warm and many blooms still open, reminding Hermione why she loved to take her books outside.

Stopping to smell one of the large exotic flowers, she turned to see Severus standing stiffly near a small bench in the path.

"Severus? Are you alright?"

"I am well. I just…I have something I need to say to you. I hadn't planned on it being tonight, but I'm afraid I can't continue without you knowing. There is something I need to ask of you as well, and I'm just hoping you won't be upset with me."

"Well," she told him, "I doubt I will be upset with you just for asking."

He nodded.

"Hermione…I am at a loss to describe how my life has changed. I once thought that the best I could hope for was a swift and painless death, preferably at a young age. But you…you've shown me…you've taught me that things aren't over until they are over. And that we are often deserving of more than we receive. And that even I can love and be loved. Merlin, do I sound pathetic. Well, sod this."

He angrily reached into his pocket and withdrew a small box. Hermione's eyes were as big as the rhododendrons as he knelt on the pebbled path before her.

Suddenly, the air was too thick and too cold. She couldn't breathe and couldn't move. Everything in her mind was focused on this one moment. On this man, on one knee, with a velvet box, and a ring.

"I cannot offer you what you deserve. And I cannot say I ever saw myself in this position. In truth, it startled me as well. But as each day passes, I grow only more certain that, if you are consenting, I wish to be with you until my dying day, may it be far in the future. My heavenly Hermione, holder of my heart's happiness…would you marry me?"

Hermione couldn't answer. Her eyes burned and brimmed with tears, her throat too constricted to speak. The air with thick with tension until she finally managed to squeak out a yes through the drops of joy on her face. She flung herself at him then, knocking him flat on his back as she kissed him all over his face.

His first instinct was to protest, but his heart quickly overruled his brain, and he wrapped his arms around her, kissing her back in the rocks and flowers.

The only witness to the event stepped quickly back down the path from which she had come, removing her small spectacles to wipe away the few tears on her face as well.

Minerva had merely come to take a stroll around the garden herself, wishing to get away from the hustle and bustle for a moment. She cared for them all, but a moment to herself was rare and not to be forsaken.

As she had come around the corner and seen the young couple talking, she knew she should give them their privacy, but curiosity overran her sense of prudence, and she dipped behind a large bush to listen to the conversation.

She clutched the front of her robes, whispered a soft epithet into the night air when she saw a sight she never dreamed would ever happen, let alone in front of her own two eyes.

Severus took a knee before Hermione.

His heartfelt words Minerva was never meant to hear, but she was thankful that she did and knew then that whatever happened, the couple would always have her to defend them, as she saw Hermione leap on the poor man and shower him with her affection.

Their love didn't happen every day. She didn't think even Harry and young Ginevra had it.

But she was pleased he had found it and that he had found it with her.

She wondered if she would be permitted to be Grandma Minnie.

~~HGSS~~

When the couple came back from their walk, the crowd looked with alarm at Hermione's tear-streaked face until Lorrell pointed at the small stone on her hand.

"Look!"

The howls of their friends joined with the young women and drunken men who all let out a huge cheer, and the butterbeer flowed.

~~HGSS~~

"You are going, Bonnie?"

"Of course I'm going, Heather! It's Professor Granger and Professor Snape's _wedding_!"

The two young girls ran down the hallway to the Great Hall, where a good-sized crowd had gathered and were slowly being seated because today there was to be a wedding.

Christmas was almost upon them, and more students than normal had stayed behind to attend the wedding of two of their professors. It was an event not to be missed, and not everyone had an invitation, but Hermione had insisted that her students be allowed to attend.

As for the bride herself, she was busy being fussed over by possibly every female she knew. Ginny and Lorrell were in their bridesmaids dresses. Not pink this time. A velvet-skirted navy gown to compliment both the girls and the season. December had hit hard, and the ground was covered in a thick, cold blanket.

Hermione sat twirling the diamond engagement band on her hand. Harry and Ginny were thrilled that even more attention had been taken from them at their wedding six months ago. Severus was less pleased, but it was to be expected. Only a handful had known about them at all, and then they were to be married.

They had agreed upon a longer engagement because she didn't want to have to try and plan a wedding, without her mother, and prepare for her first term as a new professor at the same time. She had taken to teaching like a fish to water, but she was still pleased to have time. Plus, a winter wedding was one of her dreams, and Severus was thankful she didn't ask him to be barefoot in the sunshine.

The women chatted and fussed over Hermione's hair, makeup, dress, and jewelry. Each of them had been a blessing helping her plan. Ginny for hair and dress, Lorrell for makeup, Molly for the reception, and Minerva for wizarding customs.

If Severus was panicking about today being his wedding day, he was concealing it well.

Even if they had had quite a stag night.

Hermione wondered if any of them would be welcome again at the Three Broomsticks, but really, people should know better than to jump out of a box in a room full of war heroes and yell, "Congratulations!"

"It's almost time, dear," said Minerva.

Shakily standing, Hermione looked at herself in the mirror. Her hair was held high, with curling tendrils around her face and neck. The strapless white gown hugged her curves and flared at the bottom into a small train covered in black embroidery. It was a good compromise, and she felt it most represented their union.

She knew Severus would be waiting for her in his wedding robes, and Hermione hoped he wasn't angry when he saw her surprise.

"I'm ready."

All too soon, the familiar Muggle tune was heard, announcing to the crowd that the bride was coming.

"Here we go," whispered Arthur, who had graciously consented to escort Hermione down the aisle.

"Nothing would make me prouder," he had told her. "For I have already gained a daughter, and now I will have another son."

Hermione clutched the bouquet of calla lilies that Professor Sprout had made sure were on hand for the wedding. The ceiling of the hall was enchanted to show stars in the evening sky, while soft snow fell around the wedding guests.

Familiar faces beamed at her, every eye turned in her direction as she came down the aisle to meet her groom.

The groom himself had taken two Calming Draughts against Poppy's advice, and still, his hands shook as they were clasped behind him.

Soon, he would have a wife. A Madam Snape. One who walked down the aisle in smiles with joy in her heart to meet her groom. This was not arranged, she was not pregnant, and this was not for social or financial gain.

Severus was just waiting to screw it up and was flabbergasted that it had not happened yet.

She was, indeed, very forgiving.

As Hermione and Arthur came to the end of the aisle, Arthur looked at Severus. "Be good to her, son," he told him and went to join his furiously sobbing wife in the front row, crying about how her little girl was going to be married at only eighteen, and Hermione rolled her eyes.

In the row reserved for family sat the Weasleys, Harry, Remus, Draco, and Minerva, who had single-handedly chased off three reporters from the _Daily Prophet_.

Even Dumbledore could be seen from the forest landscape painting that had been brought in for the occasion.

The minister began the ceremony as Severus and Hermione exchanged vows.

"I, Severus, take you, Hermione, to be none other than yourself. I promise to stand by your side; to encourage you, and be open and honest with you; to laugh with you, and cry with you; to always love and honour you; both freed and bound by our love, for as long as we both shall live."

Hermione repeated the words and rings were changed. She admired the antique band. Severus had shown it to her before the ceremony, explaining that it had been his grandmother's.

They had also included a hand-fasting ceremony, bringing together their magical and Muggle heritage. After their hands were bound in the long white cloth, the minister told them, "May your love find lasting permanence, bound together in the fabric of life. May the protection of marriage surround you, sustain you and comfort you. In the binding of this cloth, may you remember the binding of your words: The vows of fidelity and trust you make today. Though the cloth has two sides, it is of one piece; so now there are two lives, but bound together in one heart, one home. May these lives bound together, never to be torn asunder."

He gave them both a fatherly smile. "You may now kiss your bride."

Severus quickly turned his head towards the large crowd watching intently. He didn't much care for being the center of attention. But he looked down at the witch, with her expectant brown eyes, dipping his head to give her a solid kiss, one to sweep her off her feet. For she was now his wife, crowd be damned.

"May I present to you, for the first time, Mr. and Mrs. Severus Snape!"

~~HGSS~~

"I have a surprise for you," whispered the new Madam Snape.

"And I for you," her husband whispered back.

Hermione led him over to the piano where an attractive, clean-cut man with piercing blue eyes sat entertaining the audience.

"You must be the happy couple. Hello, I'm Jim," said the man who held out his hand to each of them. "It was amusing to be contacted by both of you. I figured this was an event to attend. Plus, her invitation came with a check," he said, indicating Hermione. "And a magical wedding. This is really, really neat."

"You invited Jim Brickman?" asked Hermione in wonder.

"You invited him?" inquired Severus.

The pianist smiled. "You know, I actually have a witch in my family. It's not all that uncommon amongst composers really. Did you know Beethoven had a butler who was a wizard?"

Hermione gasped.

"I agree with you, Mrs. Snape! But it's true. That's how he composed after he went deaf. The butler would listen and let Beethoven review his works in a Pensieve. It's all quite fascinating."

"That's…but I… That's incredible!" Hermione exclaimed.

"Yes, it is. Now, am I going to play a first dance for the happy couple?"

The pianist sat at his bench, eyeing the magical chess orchestra as they peered back at him, ready to play on the instruction of their mistress. Ginny came and took the microphone, to Hermione and Severus's surprise, and began to sing with the talented musicians.

"'Used to feel like rain fell down, even in the sun. Every dream I ever had always came undone. So how is it possible I'm in your arms tonight? I'm amazed how you found your way to my heart, drove through the dark. It's so strange how life changes and suddenly, you're lovin' me. And I'm amazed, I'm amazed.'"

"Husband," said Hermione, taking her husband's hand.

"Wife," he replied, pulling her on to the dance floor. "Why do they have to sit there and bloody stare at us?"

"It's a _wedding_."

"'Feel so safe inside your kiss, like I'm comin' home. I never could imagine this when I was on my own. Now nothing's impossible when I'm lookin' in your eyes...'" sang Ginny.

"This will be a year for the books, that's for sure," said Hermione as she was gracefully led around the dance floor.

"Our children will be told many stories of their father dancing to this insipid music."

She looked up at him. "So you do want to have children?"

"…Don't you?"

"Yes."

"Well, good, then we agree. But, if you don't, that would be acceptable. I've come to believe they may not be as impossible as I imagined, of course, but it's entirely dependent on-"

"Severus? Shut up and kiss me."

And so he did.

And the piano played.

"'A fuller life for me, I can't believe, that after all this time I'm smilin' again, and I don't know when I've been more alive...'"

**Your last teaser. /tear:** "But….But how… when…how did…did you do this?"

Severus just smirked. "Time," he answered cryptically. "All things can be done with time."

ETA: Hermione's Dress: http:/i47 .photobucket .com/albums/f196/Cybrokat/black-and-white-gown .jpg


	41. Chapter 40

**A/N: **The house is brimming with the smells of a belated family Thanksgiving. I give thanks to everyone who made it through this far, and especially Liongirl and shuldham for sticking with me, wading through the muck, and coming through the other side. Author's diatribe to follow the chapter.

**Playlist: **http:/ /www .youtube .com/watch?v=bbKYokuiVoI

**Chapter Forty**

_Five Years Later_

Professor Snape released the students with a reminder to study for the upcoming exam. Laziness would not be tolerated, and it was going to be cumulative over the semester to that point. A chorus of "Yes, Professor" rang through the room. The professor's stern demeanor was well known throughout the school, and the students wouldn't take any chances on earning a reprimand.

Head shaking as the students left, Hermione went to go see about her husband.

It had come to her through the grapevine that the headmaster was in a mood. Since Minerva had retired two years ago, and Flitwick had declined the position, Severus had served as Headmaster for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

It had been spoken in certain circles that even with Voldemort gone, the appointment would never have happened if it wasn't for the man's young wife. Since their wedding, the man had softened a bit – just a bit – around the edges and treated the houses equally as the dunderheads they were.

He hadn't even made a student cry all year.

Much.

However, Hermione knew that for one reason or another, her husband would fall into a snit.

Sometimes, it was the stress of the job as a whole. It demanded incredible amounts of time and patience, and she was sure if she didn't live in the castle, she would never see him. Not to mention, he was following in the footsteps of Albus Dumbledore and Minerva McGonagall. No easy task.

Other times, however, it was something innocuous that, for whatever reason, irked him and made him his typical, irritable self.

Either way, it was at these times that his temper would be related to Hermione either through her students or the staff, or sometimes the ghosts or the portraits, and it would be up to her to speak with him and work out whatever the issue was.

It appeared that this time, the issue was in the second category.

"Madeline is angry with me."

"Of course she is, Severus. You've been a bear all day from what I've heard," Hermione told him as he sat petulantly in his chair.

He scowled. "I was fine until she became upset. She actually told me she hated me. How am I supposed to respond to that?"

Hermione sighed and rubbed her forehead. "I'm sure we can think of something. This is just a recent development, right?"

"Yes. Nothing was spoken last night. Only this morning."

Hermione appraised her husband. "You've known her for two years. Did you do anything to make her angry?"

He didn't respond.

"Did you?"

Severus looked away. "I may have told her about…"

"About _what_, Severus?" Hermione asked in the tone husbands everywhere knew. The tone that would not be denied.

"About…Xavier."

"You mean Lucas," said Hermione. "And how could you! We were supposed to do it together!"

"She just kept asking questions, and I ran out of answers!" he said, becoming angry once again. "So Xavier just blurted out."

"_Lucas _was supposed to be a secret to her. Of course she is angry! Not many two-year-olds are excited about having a baby brother! What did she say?"

"She asked if she was going to have to share her toys, and I told her that it was inevitable in cohabitation, and she screamed, chucked her stuffed hippogryph, and told me she hated me."

Hermione sighed, imagining the scene from that morning. She must have really been upset to throw Albus. She loved that toy. It was her first gift from her Uncle Harry.

"Is this why you've been angry all day?"

"I'm not angry," he answered in a petulant tone that told another story. Her sweet, daft husband. Making other children upset because he couldn't handle his own being upset with him.

Coming closer, Hermione wrapped her arms around his neck, hugging him close to the swell of her five months pregnant stomach. "You know she loves you."

"That's not what she said this morning."

"She's two. She will often say things she doesn't mean, and if you can't learn to form a tougher hide, you'll never get through her adolescence."

"But what if Madeline ends up really hating me?" he asked, ignoring how open he was with her. He had learned it was better to be forthcoming, for she knew ways of making him talk that were undeniably more torture than Legilimency.

And when he was forthright, he was often rewarded favorably.

"That isn't going to happen. You're a wonderful father, and I'm not the only one to tell you so. Here, how about you put her to bed tonight, and you will see how much she loves her daddy."

Inquisitively, he asked her, "But you always put her to bed."

"Well, tonight is your turn. Now, is there anything I can do to make your frown turn upside-down?"

His scowl returned. "You know how much I despise being talked to in that manner. But there may be something."

"Something…Headmaster?" she asked coyly.

"Hmm. Yes. Perhaps there is something you can do for me…Miss Granger."

This wasn't a game they played often, for fear of losing its effect. But through the years, they had come to learn that each of them had their particular kinks. Severus and his nymph was just one example. When it was his turn to entertain her, they both found that his teaching robes and her student tie were an excellent match for them both, reminding them of their initial attraction to each other.

Suddenly, Hermione found that her modest green teaching robe had been shortened to the tops of her thighs. Repressing a smirk, she asked, "But, sir! I'm just a student, and you're the headmaster! Isn't this…inappropriate?"

"Not if I say it isn't." A fact Severus truly enjoyed. He was completely in charge now. "Now, put that pert little bum on my desk where it belongs."

"Yes, sir," said Hermione demurely. Her husband knew that if she was not enjoying something, she would not hesitate to say so. A fact that made the role playing possible.

With her rear on the desk, she spread her knees apart and leaned back on her hands while he fumbled with his zipper with one hand and cast the magical equivalent of "Do Not Disturb" with the other.

"You've been naughty, Miss Granger. Thinking some filthy things about your professor. And now it's time for you to be punished."

Before she could protest, he pushed her panties aside and buried his face between her legs. Hermione gave out a startled cry before leaning back on his desk, not caring what fell to the floor, and resting a hand on her large stomach.

She pressed her pelvis towards him, pushing herself roughly against his tongue.

"Such impertinence. Hold still and take your lashings properly."

Hermione giggled until she felt his tongue penetrate her while his nose nuzzled the nerves that drove her crazy.

On his knees, Severus kept his mouth pressed to her, licking between the folds, deep up inside her, and nibbling her swollen clit. He knew with her pregnancy, she was extra sensitive and aroused, making proper foreplay more difficult, as she was the one who was ready more often than he. But sometimes he needed to indulge them both, tasting her and lavishing her. He knew how much she loved this sort of attention, and in truth, watching her growing belly and swelling breasts made her even more attractive to him. He also knew how hard pregnancy could be on a woman from watching her with Madeline, and he didn't mind relieving a bit of tension – even if it was just sexual tension.

Severus found himself stroking his hard length beneath the desk as he kneeled before her, worshiping at the throne of his gorgeous, loving, and often forgiving wife.

"Severus! Gods, if you keep that up, I'm going to come right here on your desk, which I don't think the recipients of these papers will appreciate."

"You take such liberties with the headmaster, Miss Granger? I don't think you are learning from this punishment. Perhaps something else is in order."

He stood quickly, pressing the hot head of his cock just at her entrance. Just enough to tease her. "What say you, witch? Do you need to be taught how to behave correctly?"

"Yes! Yes, sir. I think I do." She wrapped her legs around his thighs, pulling him closer to her, even as he refused to enter her.

"So be it then."

He entered her with one quick thrust, knowing she was more than ready. Neither would last long, so he didn't waste his time with teasing or taunting her. One of her hands was fingering her clit while she propped a foot up on his desk to keep herself from falling as he ruthlessly pounded her.

"Nimue's nipples, woman. Even after a child, how are you so bloody tight?"

"Kegels," she gasped as each of his strong thrusts made her lose her breath. "Muggle science."

"Brilliant," he responded, loving the feel of his warm, wet cock buried to the hilt.

Severus felt the familiar twitches and spasms which meant Hermione was nearing her climax. He angled himself up a little to rub against her internal spot – he had heard enough about it that it was a wonder he hadn't named the bloody thing.

"Are you ready?" he asked as she nodded furiously. He leaned over her, his rhythm picking up even more while he captured her mouth in a kiss, feeling her spasm as her orgasm struck, triggering his own and causing him to gasp into her mouth with the pleasure that overtook him.

"I can't believe we just shagged on the desk," she whispered, almost afraid she would get in trouble. Hermione looked up. Perhaps the portraits would yell at her. But alas, even Dumbledore had found somewhere more important to be as the couple became amorous.

Each of the previous heads knew that what happened in the office, stayed in the office. Even if this particular event hadn't happened in several hundred years, that didn't mean the desk or chair had never seen their fair share of the action.

She brushed aside a sweaty lock of hair from her husband's forehead. The combination of Muggle and magical hair care really was best for them both.

"You need to lift those wards and compose yourself, or you will never hear the end of it."

Refastening his trousers, Hermione cast a cleansing charm on them both.

"And, of course, most of those papers will have to be redone," she commented, motioning to the wrinkled and damp forms that had been manhandled with their lovemaking.

"They are going to the Minister. I think I'll leave them as they are."

Hermione snorted. "You're wicked."

"I cannot help my methods of entertainment. I didn't hear you complaining."

"No, you didn't. I'll see you in a while?"

He nodded, and Hermione left him to finish straightening his office, knowing his disposition would be remarkably changed for the rest of the day. She heard one of the magical portraits returning and reprimanding him for giving them no notice before engaging in such lascivious behavior in the office.

She then heard Phineus ask if they would ever be permitted to stay, and Hermione heard the sound of a spell and the portrait flipping against the wall.

No, she decided. Her husband could definitely be worse.

~~HGSS~~

They had kept the quarters she had been given her first year as a professor. Talking to the castle so often through her years as a student, and commiserating with it during the rougher parts of her first few years, must have somehow earned her favor with the borderline sentient castle. The rooms had already been prepared for two by the time Hermione even took them, so Severus's permanent arrival before the start of her first term had been a smooth transition.

He had found that he was not nearly as attached to his own quarters as he had thought he would be. Spinner's End had never felt like home, even before his career at Hogwarts when it had actually been his home. The house was emptied and sold before their wedding, adding what he later found out was a paltry amount to the Snape bank account. (Hermione often remembered with fondness when she had first informed him of her inheritance and net worth. It had taken Poppy a full five minutes to revive him, and for a moment, they had wondered if they had lost him).

A few of the more useful or rare items were kept, as were a handful of sentimental items, but he found that the most important had already been repurposed. The piano served as the welcome into their home in the castle, and his grandparents' wedding bands were worn with love and pride by each of them.

When it was time for more additions to the rooms, the castle surprised them with a second bedroom added off the main room, with a connecting door to the master suite.

The building apparently approved of children.

At Minerva's behest, they also acquired a house-elf. Hermione was not overly pleased at the beginning, but soon the pleading of Inez wore her down. She had served Master Snape for years, the little dark-skinned elf told her. There was nothing that would please Inez more than to care for Madam Snape and the babies. Please, couldn't Inez cuddle the babies?

Finally, Hermione gave in, grateful for the help.

As Hermione opened the heavy door to their rooms, she heard little Madeline squeal.

"Mommy!"

Soon, her daughter's black curls could be seen racing toward her mum, hugging her around her knees so tightly that Hermione couldn't even step inside the door.

Big, dark brown eyes looked up at her mommy with concern. "Daddy and Gama Minnie said there is going to be anudder baby. Am I gonna have a baby, Mommy?"

"Well, sweetie, I'll be having the baby, but yes. There will be a baby brother in the house in a few months."

Hermione was finally released enough to set her students' homework on the dining table and wave to Minerva, who was resting on the sofa.

"But I don't _want_ a baby brudder!"

"Maddie, what does Daddy say about wants?"

"We don't ahways get what we want. We get what we need," the small child droned in a pitch-perfect imitation of her father.

Unfortunately, their daughter had inherited his sarcastic tone when annoyed and Hermione's temper when angry. They shuddered to think of what would develop as she grew older. Madeline had also, however, inherited her father's sense of obligation and her mother's bleeding heart for those in need.

"And don't you want a little baby that you can help me take care of? You will be able to have someone to play with soon. You could even help me pick out his name."

"I can?" asked the girl, becoming excited as Minerva laughed at the child's antics from her position in the living room.

Hermione knelt in front of her daughter. "Of course you can. Mommy and Daddy are trying to decide between Xavier and Lucas. Which do you like better?"

"Lucas!" the tot exclaimed.

"That's my girl," said her mother, giving her a hug. "Now go say goodbye to Grandma Minnie. Uncle Draco will be here soon."

"Bye, Gama!"

Their daughter also had her mother's penchant for launching herself at people with her arms wide open. Hermione had yet to see anyone refuse her daughter's hugs. They had a way of brightening your day, as she was completely selfless and indiscriminant. Madeline had freely hugged her mommy and her daddy, as well as Kingsley, who was now Minister of Magic, Harry Potter, who was Uncle Harry to the girl, but who still intimidated many, and even Lucius Malfoy on the one occasion he had happened to be home when Hermione went to call on Draco.

Hermione had bristled, almost calling her daughter back to her side that instant, but the softening of Lucius's features as Madeline had greeted him with, "Hi!" and a big squeeze, made her grateful she had, for once, been able to hold her tongue. She knew his life was hard after being robbed of his magic. For a time, he had even been sequestered in St. Mungo's until the healers had been sure he was not a risk to himself.

"You know," Hermione told him the day he had met her daughter, "Muggles live happier lives than most wizards. Without magic, they learn the blessing of reaping what you sow and the joy of personal responsibility. Maybe, without your magic, you will be able to see that you don't have to have magic or a blood line to be happy."

Lucius watched silently as the small child played hide and seek with his son in the velvet draperies in their drawing room.

"I think I may, Hermione. I think I may. If you would excuse me?"

Hermione noted an odd tone in his voice before the man quickly left the room.

Draco was a regular in their home and was soon knocking on their door. "Are you about ready?" he asked, impatient as always. "You know how my mother hates to be kept waiting."

Narcissa had become somewhat of a friend to Hermione since her marriage to Severus and could not contain herself once she found out Hermione was again pregnant, often inviting her over for tea or dinner to have girl talk that the older woman seemed to crave.

"Yes, yes, I'm aware. I'm afraid Severus won't be joining us tonight. He had a bit of paperwork to finish, and then he is going to watch Madeline for me. It's his opinion that I need to get out of this castle," Hermione told Draco as she put on her shoes and cloak.

"And he is absolutely correct." Draco led Hermione out of the castle, where she knew she would be pampered from head to toe until she was so sick of it she would demand to be returned to her feisty daughter and temperamental husband. Draco had remained a bachelor thus far, gifting Narcissa no daughter-in-law or grandchildren. It was questioned if the boy even cared for members of the fairer sex. His mother decided she would just have to be one of the godparents to her own son's godfather's children and that included making sure their mother was in the best of health – physically, mentally, and magically.

Whether she wanted it or not.

~~HGSS~~

When Hermione returned to the castle later that night – fed, massaged, and with another gift for the baby – she found her husband sitting with their daughter, who was nodding off in his lap as he read a large tome clearly not meant for children.

Madeline, of course, didn't know this and was still captivated by the large drawings of the magical flora throughout the book.

Setting her in the chair with the book, Severus padded over to meet his wife.

Hermione loved the look of him in Father Mode, as she called it. His hair was tied back, more out of necessity than out of his personal preference. Severus had found out the hard way that babies love hair. They love to eat it, they love to pull it, they love to spit up in it.

It was just better for him to tie it back.

His outer layers had been discarded, and he wore just his loose white shirt, nearly half unbuttoned, over his black trouser pants.

Part of her knew that the lack of modesty was due to snuggling up to their very warm-blooded child, but seeing him this way, with Madeline's night time binky poking out of one pocket and his reading glasses still on from the handwritten volume he had been perusing, made her love him and want him more every day.

"Welcome home," he said. "I assume you had a pleasant time?"

"As pleasant as usual," said Hermione. He knew that the visits were not always what his bookworm love would call a good evening, but it pleased him that a few of his friends were now her friends too, and hers were to him. "Did I get an owl from Ron?"

"Yes, over on the piano."

Hermione picked up the latest message from her friend. Severus and Ron had never really gotten over their differences, but they could tolerate each other for Hermione. Ron and Lorrell had finally married the previous year, and Lorrell was now seven months along, to Hermione's five. This was their first, but both assured their parents it was the first of many.

"Little ginger ankle biters," grumbled Severus when he had heard the news.

Luna was due any day, and Neville couldn't be more pleased, and it was discovered that Ginny was now pregnant with her and Harry's first.

Severus was not pleased to find out his child would be part of the new era of Marauders at Hogwarts, which included the spawn of a Potter and a Weasley and the child of Longbottom. He prayed for their classmates and could only imagine what houses they would be Sorted into.

It suited both parties to have frequent owls instead of frequent visits from Ron and his bride. Ron had been acquired by the English national Quidditch team, and it was often that he was out of the country. The couple would visit Lorrell's family or Charlie and Katie in America. The couple had yet to wed, waiting for her to finish her degree at a wizarding university while Charlie studied the American Talonclaw dragons.

Lorrell had traveled with Ron until her pregnancy became too much, and now she stayed in the empty Burrow with Arthur and Molly, who, in their mind, were expecting three grandchildren, not two, which also caused Severus a great deal of adjustment. Madeline loved both her Gama Minnie and her Gama Molly.

Ron wrote to tell her that Lorrell was fine and would owl to set up a time for all the women to gather soon for dinner at the Burrow.

Hermione was also pleased to see Harry had returned her owl as well.

The first year of the Potter marriage had been difficult for them, finding themselves in the castle, with Harry graduated, and the only married couple until Severus and Hermione. The Potters often took dinner with Hermione and Severus, and Severus grudgingly became rather friendly with Harry. And Hermione would never tell him she knew how much he enjoyed trading banter with Ginny, who had always treated him as just another person, giving him no leeway in his often irritable manner. She was just as quick as Hermione to inform him when he was being a bear.

In fact, that name for him had come from Severus turning suddenly one evening to find Ginny mocking him behind his back with her arms raised like claws and her face making a snarl like he was a great bear. The women had laughed so hard the name had stuck.

"Hermione?"

The sound of Severus's voice drew her out of her reverie. "What is it, love?"

"I think Madeline is ready."

"Well, then, by all means, bring her to bed," Hermione told her weary husband.

"Are you sure I should do this?"

"Of course. She's adaptable. I won't always be able to do it after the birth of Lucas anyway."

"You mean Xavier?"

"No, Lucas. Maddie decided. And besides, Xavier sounds awful with Snape."

"Everything sounds awful with Snape," he grumbled with a frown as Severus picked up his daughter's sleeping form and brought her to her bed, decorated with the Black family wedding ring quilt after Molly had made them their own for their nuptials.

Hermione waited for a few minutes in the living room for the sound of her daughter's cry. She heard a few noises, a bit of chatter, and then just the murmur of her husband's voice. Curious, she tiptoed to the door, before stopping dead in her tracks.

Peeking in, she could see Madeline wrapped in the quilt holding Albus as Severus cradled her in the large rocking chair by her bed. Hermione's chess set was on the bedside table. Nothing was more effective at soothing the girl than the music they would sing or play for her, and they would often sing her into dreamland.

But tonight, they weren't alone.

A chorus of pieces stood on the edge near her daughter, but only nine were there to sing the song in which ten were needed.

The tenth part was being filled by her husband.

"'Goodnight, my angel, time to close your eyes, and save these questions for another day. I think I know what you've been asking me, I think you know what I've been trying to say. I promised I would never leave you, and you should always know wherever you may go, no matter where you are, I never will be far away.'"

Hermione listened to Severus's baritone voice as he sang the now familiar song with the all male chorus. It was the song Hermione had sung to him the evening of his nightmare. It was also the song her mother had sung to her, and it was the song she had sung to Madeline every night since her first day home from the hospital.

"'Goodnight, my angel, now it's time to sleep, and still so many things I want to say. Remember all the songs you sang for me when we went sailing on an emerald bay. And like a boat out on the ocean, I'm rocking you to sleep. The water's dark and deep inside this ancient heart. You'll always be a part of me.'"

Severus hummed along with the set as they sang the bridge, gently rocking his daughter's now sleeping form. He brushed an errant curl from her face, gently rubbing her little chubby, rosy cheeks. He didn't think he would ever be able to explain how much he loved her.

"'Goodnight, my angel, now it's time to dream, and dream how wonderful your life will be. Someday your child may cry, and if you sing this lullaby, then in your heart there will always be a part of me.'"

In Madeline lived Severus. In her lived Hermione, and Hermione's parents, and even Severus's. She embodied everything once thought to be impossible, and it was a comfort to him to know that their love would continue on in their children. He was just as apprehensive and excited about meeting their son as he was about meeting their daughter.

"'Someday we'll all be gone, but lullabies go on and on...They never die. That's how you and I will be.'"

The song ended, and Severus could hear his wife's sniffles from the doorway. Figures. Bloody witch.

Hermione watched him lay Madeline in bed, still clutching her hippogryph. As she watched her daughter sleep and her husband move away, something caught Hermione's eye, and she gasped in shock.

"Severus!"

"Yes, love. I know. I had meant it to be a surprise for the new baby, but, well. Someone was a bit eager."

Severus took something off the nightstand and handed it to Hermione, pushing his paralyzed wife into the living room and shutting the door behind him so that they didn't disturb their princess's slumber.

"Oh, and I still have her binky," said Severus, a bit cocky, as he handed back the pacifier.

Hermione completely missed this milestone of her daughter's, absentmindedly tucking it in her pocket while staring at the object in her hand.

"But….But how… when…how did…did you do this?"

Severus just smirked. "Time," he answered cryptically. "All things can be done with time."

In her hand, a little figure stood, bandaged around his head and one arm, the other supporting a small crutch. He waved.

It was her king.

Severus explained how it was evident the chess set would never overcome the loss of one of their own. Finding an alternative for the losses in his life had made him wonder if the same would be possible for them. And for Hermione, for he knew that to her, it was like losing Harry or Ron.

And so, one evening, he had crept to the white tomb and retrieved the alabaster pieces. Any free time – what little there was – had been spent researching ways to reanimate transfigured pieces that had been magically destroyed. There had been a surprisingly underwhelming amount. It seemed the magical community was not concerned with broken objects. Why would they be when they could just recreate a new one?

He had eventually broken down and consulted Albus and the portrait of Professor Switch, who gave him a few leads.

It had taken three years before he finally found success.

However, even after his magical reanimation, it had taken several weeks for the full personality to resurface and for all the pieces to knit together. He was still not quite whole, but he would regenerate over a few more weeks.

Once Severus informed him of what had happened in his five-year absence, the king had demanded to be reunited with his set at once. Severus had hoped that he would be a gift for Hermione for the birth of their son, but seeing the vehemence that the king possessed, he knew it would be a disservice to him and to his chess family to deny them their reunion. The king had begun to loudly sing emancipation songs in the drawer of the headmaster's desk until Severus had agreed.

And so it was on shaky legs that the white king teetered across Hermione's hand with his little crutch. Hermione gasped, and cried, and yelled at Severus for keeping this secret, before looking at her king and crying again. She brought him around their rooms, explaining this and where they had gotten that. Hermione told him about their wedding – which made the king cheer – and about Severus being Headmaster – he gave Severus a fist bump – and about how the couple had had Madeline.

Severus creaked the door open to their daughter's room, knowing that once she slept, she slept like the dead.

Hermione set the king on his board. He had already spent time with them, but the black queen wouldn't let him out of her sight and grasped him tightly as soon as his feet hit the board.

Severus stepped in the room and held his wife close.

"Thank you," Hermione whispered with her voice suddenly hoarse. "Thank you so much."

"You're welcome," he told her, giving her tummy a rub.

Suddenly, he felt the baby kick. The first time he was able to feel his son.

Bowing close to Hermione's burgeoning belly, he told it, "Hello, Luke. I'm your father."

Hermione just shook her head with a suppressed chuckle. "Maybe we're going to have to go with Xavier."

_Finite Incantatem. _

**Diatribe:** Well? Did I fall through at the end or peter out? I hope not. I love this chapter. Please, with a Snape on top, let me know what you think.

What were your favorite parts of the story? Favorite songs?

If I were to make one-shots or ficlets set in this universe, what would you like to see? Or do you think it should be left as is and nothing added?

129 reviews to 1,000. I'm happy where we are, but if I get there, I do promise a gift, and it's a mighty big one. (In my humble opinion, anyhow.)

Personal note: I would like to add I finished this story in March of 2010. I had no idea I would be pregnant with a boy named Xander at the time of this posting!

We found out this week that we did get our house, but we have yet to receive a closing date. May still not be til Feb. :/ This little man makes his arrival on Feb 1st so we'll see what happens!

And I realized I never shared my 'I'm having Alan Rickman's baby' story with you, so here goes: My husband and I tried for 18 months to no avail to have a baby. My friends and I were going to NYC and they insisted I just needed to meet Mr. Rickman and touch him to get pregnant, because we all know he can impregnate on touch alone, like his character of the Metatron in Dogma. Well, long story short, as you know, I did meet him. And two weeks later, I did get pregnant. To make it more amazing, my due date is calculate from April 27th. The day I met Alan Rickman. So thanks for the souvenir, Mr. Rickman! Glad I could smuggle it through customs! *snicker*

I'm sad to leave this story behind. It was a year to this point, from when I started writing until my last post. But, new things are in the works! I hope you keep a friendly eye out for them. Au revoir!


	42. Music Master List

Alas, this isn't a sequel. However, since this story has been published, many people have asked me for a complete song list. As Youtube is always cracking down on things, should my songs become unavailable, here is the masterlist. I hope you find some new favs. If you need any more info on a song, please don't hesitate to ask.

And don't be surprised if soon there IS a new Liminal story.

**Chapter 1**

1. Chopin – Berceuse in D flat, op 57

2. Liszt Prelude to Transcendental Etudes

3. Liszt – Harmonies poetiques & religieuses (HP&R) s154

4. Liszt Mephisto Waltz

**Chapter 2**

Chopin – Fantaisie Impromptu

Sinding – Rustle of Spring

Debussy – La Fille Aux Cheveux de Lin

Debussy – Clair De Lune

Chess, the musical – Someone Else's Story

**Chapter 3**

Liszt – HP&R no7 – Funerailles

Liszt – HP&R no8 – Miserere

Liszt – HP&R no9 – Andante lagrimoso

Dvorak – Songs My Mother Taught Me

Matsui – Presence of the Moon

**Chapter 4**

Mendelssohn – Op 19b No1 – Andante con moto in E Major

Satie – Gnossiennes no3 – Lent

Falla – Ritual Fire Dance

Chaminade – Autumn, op35

Beethoven – Moonlight Sonata

**Chapter 5**

Mussorgsky – Pictures at an Exhibition (PaaE) – Promenade 2, the old castle

Grieg – Lyric Pieces (LP) – Melodi

Grieg – LP – At Your Feet

Grieg – LP – Solitary Traveler

Grieg – LP – Puck

Brickman – If You Believe

**Chapter 6**

Chopin – Nocturne No2

Beethoven – Fur Elise

Satie – Gymnopedie No1

Liszt – HP&R – No4 Penseess des morts

Liszt – HP&R – no5 Pater noster

**Chapter 7**

Mozart – Piano Sonata no16

Mussorgsky – PaaE – Baba Yaya

Mussorgsky – PaaE – Samuel Goldenberg and Schmuyle

Mussorgsky – PaaE – Great Gate of Kiev

Mussorgsky – PaaE – Promenade 4 – Ballet of Unhatched Chicks

Brickman – Sound of Your Voice

Mozart – Piano Sonata no11

**Chapter 8**

Prokofiev – Peter and the Wolf

Rimsky-Korsakov – Flight of the Bumblebee

Mussorgsky – PaaE – Gnomus

Tchaikovsky – October – Autumn Song

Rachmaninov – Rhapsody on Paganini

**Chapter 9**

Sibelius – Finlandia

Glass – Metamorphosis One (Meta. 1-5 are referenced)

Whiteacre – Equus

Grainger – Country Gardens

Grainger – Molly on the Shore

Brickman – Hero's Dream

Brickman – Sound of your Voice

**Chapter 10**

Matsui – Water Lily

Matsui – Light Above the Trees

Matsui – Distance

Matsui – Be with Me

From Rurouni Kenshin – Her Most Beautiful Smile (This was the first dance at my wedding)

**Chapter 11**

Stanford Talisman – Wanting Memories

From The Lion King on Broadway – Endless Night

**Chapter 12**

Gershwin – Someone to Watch Over Me

From Beauty and the Beast on Broadway – Belle (reprise)

From Music Man – My White Knight

From Moulin Rouge – Elephant Love Medley

From Music Man – Goodnight My Someone

Mozart – Eine Kleine Nachtmusik

**Chapter 13**

Star Wars V – The Imperial March

Gershwin – Rhapsody in Blue

Copland – Appalachian Spring

Arnaud – Bugler's Dream

Whitacre – Ghost Train

Vivaldi – Winter

From Little Mermaid on Broadway – Her Voice

**Chapter 14**

Brickman – Coming Home

From Secret Garden on Broadway – Lily's Eyes

**Chapter 15**

From Avenue Q – There's a Fine, Fine Line

Brickman – Waiting for You

From the film Enchanted – So Close

**Chapter 16**

Count Basie – What Are You Doing New Years Eve

Doris day & Bing Crosby – Baby, It's Cold Outside

**Chapter 17**

Delibes – The Flower Duet (Dome epais le jasmine)

**Chapter 18**

From Jekyll & Hyde on Broadway – Someone Like You

From Jekyll & Hyde – In His Eyes

From Chess – I Know Him So Well

From Chess – Heaven Help My Heart

From Little Mermaid on Broadway – If Only (quartet)

**Chapter 19**

Brickman – Beauty and the Beast

Brickman – A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes

Brickman – Someday My Prince will Come

Ashley Gearing – When You Wish Upon a Star

Dukas – The Sorcerer's Apprentice

**Chapter 20**

Bill Withers – Ain't No Sunshine When She's Gone

Whitacre – Lux Aurumque (winds)

Sara Mclaughlin – Angel

Barber – Adagia for Strings

**Chapter 21**

Spartan Dischords – Annie Waits

Commodores – Brick House

Spartan Dischords – I Think I Love You

Billie Piper – She Wants You

From Little Mermaid on Broadway – Kiss the Girl

Jimmy Buffet – Love in the Library

**Chapter 22**

Linda Ronstadt – Bewitched, Bothered & Bewildered

Diana Krall – I've Grown Accustomed to His Face

April McLean – Head Over Heels

Diana Krall – Let's Fall in Love

DHT _ Listen to Your Heart (slow)

**Chapter 23**

None

**Chapter 24**

Brickman- Sound of Your Voice

King's Singers – And So It Goes

Tchaikovsky – Romeo and Juliet

**Chapter 25**

None

**Chapter 26**

From Jekyll and Hyde – No One Knows Who I Am

Grainger – Molly on the Shore

Brickman – Sudden Inspiration

**Chapter 27**

Whitacre – October

Al Green – Take Your Time

Norah Jones – Turn Me On

Kyoko Tabe – Song Without Words

**Chapter 28**

None

**Chapter 29**

None

**Chapter 30**

Smetana – The Moldau

**Chapter 31**

Josh Groban – Alla Luce Del Sole

John Barrowman – Every Little Thing She Does in Magic

Otis Redding – Try a Little Tenderness

**Chapter 32**

Brickman – Sound of your voice

From Lion King II – Love Will Find a Way

Brickman – Meant to Be

**Chapter 33**

Brickman – Secret Love

Brickman – Sound of Your Voice

Spartan Dischords – Lullaby (Also by Billy Joel)

**Chapter 34**

Sarah Vaughan – My Funny Valentine

From De-Lovely, Natalie Cole – Ev'ry Time We Say Goodbye

**Chapter 35**

None

**Chapter 36**.

Handel – Hallelujah Chorus

**Chapter 37**

Phantom of the Opera – Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again

Ticheli – Earth Song (*cry*)

**Chapter 38**

None

**Chapter 39**

Beethoven – Piano Concerto no5

Reba McIntire – I'll Be

Allison Krause – When You Say Nothing At All

Wagner – Bridal March

Brickman – I'm Amazed

**Chapter 40**

Spartan Dischords - Lullaby


End file.
